


All The Difference In The Worlds

by SomeRandomShittyRambler



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, RWBY
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeRandomShittyRambler/pseuds/SomeRandomShittyRambler
Summary: "The right man in the wrong places can make all the difference in the worlds".Unfortunately for Jaune Arc, he finds himself in the wrong place when he pushed Pyrrha into that rocket locker and takes her place at the top of Beacon's tower during the Fall. Even worse, that isn't the only wrong place that awaits him.The spin-off expansion of my other story Two Worlds, One Arc-nomaly.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	1. The End Of A Beginning

The world was ending, and Jaune Arc was terrified.

To be fair, though, Jaune Arc was often terrified.

Just in the past year alone, he'd been terrified when he'd submitted fake transcripts to Beacon. He'd been terrified when he'd stolen the family sword, run away from home, and hopped on a civilian Bullhead heading to Vale. He'd been terrified when he'd been launched off a cliff and into a Grimm-infested forest. He'd been terrified when a javelin had suddenly speared him to a tree mid-flight. He'd been terrified when he'd been chased out of a cave by a _very_ large and _very_ angry Deathstalker. He'd been terrified when he'd had to fight said Deathstalker. He'd been terrified when he'd been made leader of a team of teenagers, all clearly stronger, more experienced, and _qualified_ than he to even be in Beacon, let alone _Team Leader_. He'd been terrified when he'd been called upon in any class, let alone Goodwitch's Combat Class. He'd been terrified confessing to Pyrrha that he'd been a fraud. He'd been terrified when Cardin had found out, and held it over him. He'd been terrified when he'd stood up to Cardin in Forever Fall. He'd been terrified when he'd stood up to an Ursa Major to save Cardin's life. He'd been terrified when someone had spilled a drink on Yang's hair. He'd been terrified when Nora had gotten hold of coffee. He'd been terrified when he'd received a call from his best friend in the middle of the night, while she'd been on a mission to Mountain Glenn. He'd been terrified when the Breach had occurred. He'd been terrified competing in the Vytal Festival, his first publicly-broadcasted tournament. He'd been terrified when he'd found his valued partner in a corner, depressed and philosophical, in the middle of the festival. He'd been terrified when she'd fought Penny, used too much force, and the White Fang leader Adam had suddenly hijacked the broadcast. He'd been terrified when the White Fang and the Grimm had suddenly attacked Amity Colosseum (and especially when the damned Wyvern had suddenly burst out of the mountain). He'd been terrified when he'd seen Headmaster Ozpin lead Pyrrha away without a word, halfway through the Battle of Beacon. He'd been terrified when Pyrrha, clearly scared and apprehensive herself, had stepped into a pod, linked to another pod with a comatose and injured woman within. He'd been terrified when they'd been interrupted by a red-dressed ravenette who'd shot the comatose woman in the chest, before doing a "Yang Xiao-Long" (i.e. bursting into flames and blowing him away with a single hit. At least she hadn't made any puns, thank Oum for small mercies).

Seeing as how the Headmaster had stayed back to fight her, ordering them to call for reinforcements as "the tower cannot fall", and they'd ascended from the Tower to find Beacon completely deserted, the Grimm Dragon out of sight but audibly circling overhead, Bullheads leaving Beacon in distance, and _he still had no idea what was going on_ , Jaune felt that his sense of terror was even more justified than it normally was.

Still, though, if there was a state of mind Jaune Arc was used to, it was being terrified and in _way_ over his head, and he'd spent the past few months learning how to operate under such conditions. Slowing down once they'd made it what they felt was a safe enough distance from the underground vault (what was the minimum safe distance between one and a person slinging fireballs with enough force to hold off a Huntsman Academy's Headmaster, especially considering one's Aura has been depleted from constant battling for the past hour or two? He'd never been any good at math!), he quickly tried to catch his breath (Pyr still wasn't even winded, and she'd carried him halfway up!) as his mind quickly analyzed the situation (rumbling in the distance; fighting still occurring? Abandoned open rocket locker; possible supply or escape craft) and ran through a checklist he'd seen on a scroll with Ruby during one of their Team Leader Study Sessions.

 _Survive_? Barring Coma Lady (and maybe the Headmaster, though the Headmaster was definitely strong and Jaune had hope for him), check.

 _Evade_? Eh, close enough.

 _Resist_?

Alright, time for the next step. Who would he call for help, though? Ren and Nora? Team RWBY? If even his partner had been told to run, he doubted any of them would be able to help the Headmaster. The teachers, then? Headmaster Ozpin had said to get Ms. Goodwitch or General Ironwood...

Pulling out his scroll, he tried to reassure Pyrrha while finding Ms. Goodwitch's number, but even if they hadn't been partners for over a semester now he'd have easily been able to tell her mind was still focused back on the Tower. He knew he wouldn't be able to put the topic off any longer; he needed to know what was going on, if only so he could actually plan around things (even if an abandoned Grimm-infested school probably wasn't the best time or place for it). Turning to his partner, he tried to steady his voice as he asked: "Pyrrha... what was all of that?"

Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to get out more than a single syllable before a strong quake turned them around, just in time to see the ravenette rocketing up the Tower's elevator shaft. Terror turned to horror in his heart, and he murmured: "But... Ozpin..."

He didn't want to believe it, but he couldn't deny it. He'd known that being a Huntsman meant risking your life to protect others, but to see it first-hand was a whole other matter. Where his face fell, though, and he silently mourned the Headmaster, he noticed his stalwart and trusty partner's face harden. He knew that look; it was the same look she got when he told her she couldn't have any more chocolate. His fears were confirmed when she turned to him, and with a determined voice ordered: "There's no time. Go. Get to Vale and call for help."

"Pyrrha..." Jaune didn't need to hear the edge in her voice, see the way she looked back to the Tower, to know she planned on going back.

Going to fight that _monster_.

Going to her death.

He knew she wouldn't back down. He _knew_ his partner. Kind, caring, selfless to a fault, and stubborn as an Ursa. Arguing would be a waste of time and breath for both of them. Defiance would result in his overprotective partner doing something drastic. Instead, he mentally measured out distances ( _6 paces behind_ ), and did the last thing she expected.

He stepped forward and as he saw her tense up, ready to drastically intervene, he embraced her, enveloping her in his arms as he spun around. He felt her stiffen in surprise, and almost swore he heard his invincible partner actually squeak, before she relaxed, melting in the comfort of her trusty partner's arms. He saw her look up at him, face flushed with embarrassment at their sudden contact, but her eyes had momentarily lost their steely glint. There was his opportunity, and he released his hug, before gripping her shoulders, and leaned down to whisper in her ear: "I'm trusting you to call for help, Pyr."

Confusion overtook her features as he pushed hard, and she stumbled backwards before her back hit metal. He didn't give her time to protest or question him before he shut the rocket locker's door, and quickly keyed the rocket locker to home in on Ruby's scroll signal. Through the slits of the rocket locker he saw her eyes widen in realization, and the narrow in anger as her hand clenched into a fist. A black glow began to visibly manifest around the locker and his armour and she shouted: "Jaune-"

Jaune didn't give Pyrrha the chance to use her Semblance, instead punching the launch button with a quiet: "I'm sorry."

And then she was gone, the black glow dissipating. He knew from first-hand experience that, safe as rocket locker travel may have technically been, it was also a particularly bumpy one, and Pyrrha's Semblance required concentration. He watched as the rocket locker took his partner to the safety of the second-best team in Beacon, before the reality of what he'd done hit him, and he felt like collapsing.

 _Escape_? Close enough; Remnant needed Huntresses like Pyrrha more than a fraud like him anyway.

Clenching his fist around his sheathed sword, he turned back to the Tower, where _she_ was. For a moment, he was tempted to make a break for it, to just run away. It was crazy, after all! She'd killed _Ozpin_! Even Pyrrha wouldn't have stood a chance, let alone him, and he didn't even know what was so important about the Tower anyway.

But Headmaster Ozpin said the Tower could not fall, and he trusted the Headmaster. And they _had_ to stall Cinder here, in the abandoned Tower where they knew she was; if she got out, got to the Bullheads evacuating the school, or the city...

He knew he couldn't _beat_ her... but he didn't need to. He just needed to resist, to hold out until Pyrrha got Ms. Goodwitch or General Ironwood to the Tower, and then he'd be fine. Just fine. Maybe a little bit _well done_ , but he'd be fine. And hey... he'd wanted to protect others, to be a _hero_ , right? And wasn't this what heroes did? Fight insurmountable odds for the sake of others? He'd known, even as a kid listening to his parents' bedtime stories, that not all heroes lived to see the happy ending they fought for...

... but he'd already accepted the risks when he'd run away to join Beacon. It just felt so surreal, though, accepting his mortality. It'd been different with Cardin and the Breach; this felt more certain, more final.

And still he ran into the Clock Tower, trying to remember where the maintenance access corridors were.

After all, the lift was out of order, on account of the human-shaped hole.

**-BEACON EVACUATION ZONE PERIMETER, 2 MINUTES LATER-**

Ruby's breathing may have been steady as she and Weiss sprinted towards Beacon, but her heart and mind were anything but calm.

Ruby had been supposed to join Beacon because she'd been cool and awesome in fighting Torchwick, and then she was supposed to have a great team with new friends and her sister, and they'd all bond over weapons and cookies! And sure, she'd accomplished all of that (barring some... "hiccups"), and even found a dorky best friend that hadn't been stolen away from her by Yang! But everything else after that? The Vytal Festival? _This_?!

 _This_ wasn't supposed to be how things would go!

Yang was a brutal fighter, sure, but she'd never break a defeated opponent's legs! And Pyrrha... Penny...

She blinked back the tears threatening to form in her silver eyes as she remembered the rest of the day.

Penny, dismembered.

The White Fang.

The Grimm attack at Amity.

Atlas' airships and robots, firing on civilians.

Roman Torchwick, unceremoniously eaten by a Griffon.

Coming back to Beacon to find Yang, bleeding out, missing an arm, Blake stabbed, Ren and Nora, exhausted and wounded, and Jaune and Pyrrha nowhere to be seen.

Not for the first time, Ruby felt a sense of helplessness creep up on her, but she squashed it back down. There'd be time for doubt later; for now, she had to find her two close friends. She hadn't been able to save Penny or Roman. She hadn't been there for Yang or Mom. There was no way she was going to lose a good friend with a cool weapon who ignored her young age, and there definitely was no way she was going to lose her first friend in Beacon! She owed way too much to Vomit Boy, after all, from how he'd been there to pick her up on their very first day to his support when she'd been doubting being a team leader, to how he and his team had helped her during the Breach! And he'd promised to make cookies for her someday which they'd share while reading X-Ray and Vav Comics! And an Arc never went back on his word!

The sound of a rocket locker's engines snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up in surprise. She hadn't thought there'd been anyone left who _didn't_ have their weapons yet, and she paused and stared at it a bit longer.

Then she realized it was getting closer and aimed straight at her, and she quickly jumped out of the way as it slammed into the ground. Weiss moved next to her and stared at the crashed rocket locker, before asking: "Uh, Ruby? Did you call for that?"

"No, did you?"

Before Weiss could answer back, a familiar black glow began surrounding the rocket locker, before it violently burst open with a roaring sound that sent them diving to the ground with a ferocious war cry (and definitely not squeaks of "Eep!"). Looking back up revealed a familiar bronze-armoured champion.

Ruby was too relieved to care about the anger radiating off of her, and zipped towards Pyrrha, hugging her with a "Pyrrha! You're okay!"

"Wha- Ruby?!" Pyrrha stammered out in confusion as she finally realized where she was, and she spent half a second soothingly rubbing the Red Reaper's back before she remembered just exactly _how_ she'd been sent here. Weiss backed up when she noticed the very uncharacteristic anger and worry return to Pyrrha's face, but before she could say anything Ruby looked around, and thoughtlessly asked: "Hey, where's Jaune?"

Weiss winced as the remains of the rocket locker began crumpling like tissue paper, but what finally set off Ruby's mental alarms was the sheer amount of indignant fury in Pyrrha's voice as she snarled out her partner's name like a Beowolf: " _Jaune_!"

They'd _never_ heard her talk about Jaune with anything more than concern, worry, resignation and _way_ more gentle affection than was usual for most partners. So it was perhaps understandable that the novel string of Mistralian curse words ("Uh, Weiss... have you ever heard Pyrrha _swear_ before?" "Drat, looks like I owe Yang 20 lien.") and promises of pain to her partner that followed had them nervously backing up, before the anger suddenly drained from her face like a switch had been flicked. Instead, she looked back towards Beacon, where she'd been launched from, a forlorn look on her face.

Ruby felt her heart fall, but she still used the lull in Pyrrha's rant to ask through a rapidly-constricting throat: "Pyrrha... is Jaune..."

"No!" Pyrrha yelled in response, before her voice softened, and she softly murmured: "No, Jaune's not dead... he's the one who pushed me into the locker and sent me away."

Ruby breathed a sigh of relief, but Weiss noticed what was left unsaid. She may not have been fond of Jaune's (former) constant attempts at asking her out, but she considered him a good friend for how he'd set Neptune straight at the dance (and how he'd _stopped_ asking her out every other day), and it was with a quiet voice that she asked: "Pyrrha, what happened? Where's Jaune?"

"There's no time." Pyrrha declared as she gripped her weapon and stormed her way back towards Beacon, but before she could make it two steps Ruby zipped in front of her, and asked: "Pyrrha... what's going on?"

"... someone killed Ozpin." Pyrrha finally said, gently but firmly pushing past Ruby, and as she continued back towards Beacon her pent-up frustrations began to spill out: "Jaune and I were... we were doing something for Ozpin, but then the leader of Team CMEN suddenly interrupted, shot a woman with a glass arrow. Ozpin told us to call for help while he held her off, but... and then Jaune! He stayed behind! He pushed me into the rocket locker and sent me off while he stayed behind to try and stop her by himself!"

Glass... glass... the CCT! The robbery! Ruby Rose never forgot a weapon, after all. She still didn't want to believe it, though, and even as they ran after Pyrrha her voice shook as she asked: "Cinder killed Ozpin? How? And Jaune's going to fight her?! Wait, where are you going?!"

"She's... she's got weird fire magic now. Flames, fireballs, and flight."

"What."

"Fire... magic?"

"And I'm going back for him. Don't try to stop me."

"We weren't going to. We're coming _with_ you. Right, Weiss?" Pyrrha looked back at Ruby's words, noted the seriousness, the determination on the young girl's face. Behind her, Weiss simply cycled Myrtenaster's chamber and nodded back. She managed a small smile for the Reaper and the Heiress, and they began running back to the clock tower.

**-OZPIN'S OFFICE, 5 MINUTES AGO-**

Not for the first time in his life, someone thought Jaune Arc was a complete and utter nobody.

To be fair, he _was_ the weakest student in Beacon, and that was before one considered Team JNPR consisted of the Invincible Girl, _Nora Valkyrie_ , and the only man who could calm Nora Valkyrie down, and that they could often be found with the strongest first-year team, Team RWBY, as well as the strongest second-year team, Team CFVY.

So, being completely overlooked by someone? Completely reasonable and understandable (and something he'd been used to, growing up with seven older sisters and all).

Also, she'd killed Ozpin, so her lack of approval didn't really hurt anyway.

For the first time in his life, though, Jaune Arc was _happy_ that she didn't consider him _anybody_. That she didn't even consider him a _threat_.

After all, he was just playing for time until whoever Pyrrha called could come and save him, and if the homicidal lady (who he was starting to recognize as that "totally, definitely, undoubtedly school-aged and not suspicious" leader of Team CMEN who seemed to keep finding excuses to be around Pyrrha and Team RWBY) wanted to spend a good minute or two staring at him in disbelief before laughing when he'd come through the maintenance access, panting for breath, well who was he to stop her?

... okay, it had started to grate a _little_ bit after the second minute...

His knuckles had also turned white from clenching his sword as she'd scoffed at him, taunted him, monologued about how she'd made plans to deal with all of Ozpin's pawns, from Pyrrha to Glynda and even Team RWBY... but she'd never bothered making one for _him_.

That was a good thing, after all. That meant she hadn't noticed that his pocket was emptier than normal; he'd left his scroll by the doorway when he'd hunched over, recording their encounter. If... if things didn't go according to his vague unformed plans... hopefully his death wouldn't have been in vain.

She also didn't notice anything weird about the vial of emergency maintenance Dust supplies he'd swiped from the janitor's closet. Sure, half a year or so of Dust Studies had done precisely nothing in teaching him how to actually _use_ Dust, but if Ruby could set off an explosion by sneezing, he was sure he could figure _something_ out.

He'd have liked to call the battle that followed an epic last stand, where he tapped into unknown reserves of strength and power, and put her on the backfoot.

However, since he'd been recording the whole thing, he couldn't.

Instead, she'd merely tried hosing his position down with flames and tossed fireballs at him while he'd desperately blocked and dodged whatever he could, not for the first time thankful for his large Aura reserves and the training Pyrrha'd put him through. When he'd finally tried her patience by refusing to die (and when he'd mentioned that "Pyrrha's faster."), she'd suddenly drawn two black glass swords, and jumped at him with ferocious swings and furious swipes.

Where Pyrrha would have just danced out of range, performing feats of acrobatics that made his spine and pelvis wince sympathetically, Jaune was barely able to stumble back, shield raised, sword flailing about in a desperate attempt at blocking or parrying the many hits that made it past his shield.

But still, even as his back hit the wall, faster than him as she may have been, stronger than him as she may have been, vastly more skilled than him as she may have been... he'd been trained by the best. He saw her eyes flash in satisfaction as she wound up for a heavy blow, meant to take him out of the fight in a single hit...

... only to get a vial full of Dust to her face.

She was more than quick enough to intercept it, granted, but in doing so she shattered the vial and set off the Dust stored within. Jaune hadn't known enough about Dust to identify what kind of Dust it was, but from the arcs of electricity that had suddenly shot out at her face, he felt confident in assuming it had been Lightning Dust. He also considered himself very lucky that none of the lightning hit him; lightning plus metal armor would equal one very unpleasant experience. More importantly, though, he finally had an opening... well, an opening even _he_ could actually take advantage of. With a high-pitched desperate roar he charged forward and swung his sword in an upwards arc.

She caught his sword bare-handed, murder in her glowing bloodshot eyes, before sending him flying back into the wall with a gout of flames. He got back up as quickly as he could, ignoring the aches, bruises, burns, and pains, in time to see her snap his sword in half before tossing it away. She looked back at him, and declared: "Enough! You are beneath me, and I shall not waste my time and energy on you any longer! I'll just let _her_ deal with you now."

A loud screech had him take his eyes off of the ravenette, and he looked out of the window, just in time to see the Grimm Dragon fly towards him from another tower. He had just enough time to dive for cover under Ozpin's desk before it hit the tower, sending dust and debris flying everywhere.

Cinder looked at the destruction with a sense of satisfaction, tempered with anger at the fact that _Jaune Arc_ , some random nobody with next-to-zero combat experience or training, had actually managed to waste some of her time. She'd come up here expecting the Invincible Girl to follow, at the very least, or the Good Witch. An actual challenge whom she could wield the full extent of her new Maiden powers against! At least he was dead, tho-

The elevator dinged, distracting her momentarily.

Cinder turned around to see a familiar spear fly towards her face, which she handily dodged, followed by a circular shield, which she blocked, and a very angry champion, who landed on her shield, pressing against Cinder. A heavy impact against her stomach made her double over slightly, weakening her stance, and Cinder was kicked into a pillar by Pyrrha, who backflipped off of her shield and back towards Ruby and Weiss. The Grimm Dragon roared at the new arrivals, but a wave of frost made it back up cautiously.

Pyrrha and Ruby, meanwhile, hurriedly scanned the room for any sign of Jaune. Any sign that their best friend was still alive. All they found, however, was a broken sword and his scroll on the floor. Something inside Pyrrha snapped, and even as Ruby zipped to Jaune's broken sword, staring at it, praying that her eyes were deceiving her, Pyrrha screamed, and all the metal debris throughout the room began levitating with a dark glow. Cinder had barely enough time to recover from being kicked into a pillar before she began quickly deflecting all the metal flying at her.

The Grimm Dragon, meanwhile, decided that the Ice Dust wasn't a very significant threat, and began advancing on Weiss, who called for Ruby to snap out of it and help her kill the darned thing. She couldn't focus on anything besides the broken sword in her hand, though. Indescribable but familiar feelings began roiling within her chest, and a burning sensation began to build up behind her eyes...

As the Grimm Dragon stomped upon a pile of rubble, however, a bright light suddenly shone from within it, and the rocks under the Grimm's wing (and the Grimm's wing) suddenly flew upwards, all the force applied downwards suddenly being reversed. Even as the Grimm Dragon squawked in surprise as it was thrown off balance, a coughing sound could be heard, and a familiar blonde emerged from the remains of a broken desk, bruised, battered, very much beaten, but still alive.

" _You_."

"Arc?!"

"Jaune?!"

"Jaune!"

Jaune was too busy clearing his lungs to pay much attention to his surroundings, but he still _tried_ to analyze the situation. He'd been knocked out for a minute or two when the roof had collapsed, and had woken up underneath a broken desk and a ton of rocks. And then, suddenly, he'd felt an additional weight press down on him, and then his aura had glowed, like back in Forever Fall with Cardin, before everything on top of him was suddenly repulsed. Wait, was this his Semblance? Or just a side effect of his abnormally large aura? Eh, question for later. His aura was even lower than red at the moment, he could feel a sharp pain in his chest whenever he breathed as well as a dull ache in his sternum, and the fiery bitch (not Yang) was still around, albeit being backed into a corner by his partner's Semblance.

Wait, his partner?

Jaune blinked, and blinked a second time to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. Oum, it seemed, had answered his prayers; Pyrrha was here, along with Ruby and Weiss, all staring at him with relief evident in their faces.

Cinder didn't miss her opportunity; she threw a fireball at a distracted Pyrrha, knocking her away easily, before sending a wave of glass shards throughout the room, trying to suppress them. Weiss threw up a wall of ice to protect herself, but Ruby hadn't noticed until it was too late. Lacking the time to concentrate on her Semblance, Ruby closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, hoping her Aura was still high enough.

5 seconds later, when the expected force and pain hadn't come (and she belatedly realized her heart was still beating), Ruby slowly opened her eyes, wondering if Cinder had somehow missed.

Jaune's unmoving body, riddled with sizzling holes in front of her, said otherwise.

"Jaune?" Ruby cautiously crawled towards her best friend, not wanting to believe it. The red liquid pooling beneath him made a squelching noise as she accidentally stepped into it, but she was too focused on him too care. Her best friend, whom she'd come to save, whom she hadn't been too late to save, had dove in front of her to save _her_.

And he was gone for it. The satisfied smile on his face was the worst part. The heat behind her eyes doubled, and something within her broke as she howled.

Beneath her, Jaune struggled to speak, to reassure his first friend that he was alright, just a little cold. He heard his partner also cry out his name, and tried to turn to her, but a silver light suddenly engulfed him, and then he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, yes, this is basically identical to the first chapter of Two Worlds, One Arc-nomaly. Because, while this is (hopefully) going to be a longer and less silly version of that short and silly story, the starting point's still the same: a destiny altered at the top of a tower. I know I said I was going to do this when I finished TWOA, but I've been really busy for the past few months. Hopefully, that'll all change soon, though.
> 
> And no, while they may start the same, and be based on the same concept, that doesn't necessarily mean I'll take this story in the same direction as TWOA, nor does it mean things will progress in this story as they did in TWOA. Consider this the sell-out cash-grab spin-off, if you're cynical enough.
> 
> I was honestly considering starting off the story with the next chapter, and directing readers to read TWOA if they wanted context on how Jaune dies, but I believe my stories should be self-contained (unless they're sequels, prequels, or spin-offs, perhaps), and newer readers might be confused and lost. So, instead...
> 
> And no, this still does not get put into the crossover category because I don't believe on limiting myself purely to Elder Scrolls or Fallout.
> 
> Expect updates to be very infrequent, though I should pump out the next chapter by next week, now that I'm finishing up my current job that "requests" an 80-hour work week.
> 
> On an aside note, I've been considering setting up a ko-fi. Feel free to lambast me as a sell-out if you want; I do appreciate feedback.


	2. The Beginning After An End

Yang Xiao-Long was _not_ terrified.

After all, Yang Xiao-Long was _never_ terrified!

She was a proud Nord warrior woman, strong in arm, sharp in mind, and stout of heart! And if there was one thing the continent of Tamriel had learned, from the sagas of Ysgramor to the conquests of Talos and the Battle of the Red Ring, it was that Nord warriors did not feel fear, no! _They_ struck _fear_ in the hearts of _others_!

With that said, if Yang had to admit that she _may_ have been capable of feeling any emotion that _might_ bear even the slightest resemblance to "fear", then, by Oblivion, then she was definitely feeling a lot of that nameless emotion that day.

To be fair, though, the 17th of Last Seed 4E201 had started _very_ poorly for Yang.

By then, she'd spent almost two whole months making the arduous trek from the patch of land they'd owned in the south of Cyrodiil, all the way up north into the province of Skyrim, despite the mounting unrest and danger of the roads, and the pleas and protests of her father Tai, with the singular goal of finding her bitch of a mother Raven Branwen, finding out why she had abandoned them 12 years ago, and then beating the shit out of her for breaking Tai's heart and leaving him to raise Yang all by himself. Not that Tai had necessarily done a bad job, but she'd figured he at least deserved an answer, some closure, and a measure of payback.

Unfortunately, at the very moment she'd crossed the border, she'd stumbled into an Imperial ambush of a passing rebel contingent. But not just any ambush of any rebel contingent, oh no.

General Tullius himself had personally come to oversee the capture Ulfric Stormcloak.

Even a peasant like her from beyond the backwaters of Bravil had heard about the Stormcloak Rebellion, and just who these men were.

Perhaps, if Yang had been at her best, she _might_ have been able to escape. Weakened by her travels and the related exertions, however, she'd been unable to overpower the three Legionnaires that had jumped her, and had succumbed to unconsciousness after but two minutes of resistance (and getting kicked in the gut and pummeled on the head by the pommels of their swords).

To make things worse, she'd woken up on a prison cart with the Stormcloak rebels, had to endure self-righteous prattling and droning from said rebels (she'd been too busy catching her breath to snap at him to shove his spiel back where the sun didn't shine, and by the Nine was she thankful they'd had the foresight to gag Ulfric), and brought to a fortified town to be executed.

At least the Imperial soldier had tried to speak out against her execution, even if he'd been immediately overruled by his Captain. She was sure the small gesture would be a comfort when her head was lopped off.

It'd been as she'd been forced to kneel in front of a big burly hooded executioner (she'd derisively nicknamed him "Junior", just to piss him off), as she'd glared up at the axe gleaming in the sun, and steadfastly ignored the decapitated head of a Stormcloak below her, that the first stirrings of what definitely wasn't fear had begun to make themselves known to her, and she'd felt herself emotionally compensate by getting angry, getting aggressive, until finally she'd begun swearing up a storm, at Junior, at the Divines, at the Imperials who were about to execute her for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stoicism had been a valued trait in Cyrodiil, but she was a Nord in Skyrim; she felt the Nine could overlook her enflamed passions.

And then a dragon, of all things, had suddenly descended to the town below, and as fire rained from the heavens above she found herself revising her thoughts as hastily as she made for cover, running for a nearby stone tower with all the speed her legs could take her.

As she'd crept her way through the besieged city, watching Legionnaires, Stormcloaks, and townsfolk alike burn where they stood, head like an owl swiveling around in ceaseless vigil, the stirrings of not-fear had become a full-blown flood, gripping her heart in its icy grasp. And as she inched closer and closer to the closest thing to fear a Nord could feel, she began to get aggressive. Even as she slid past the massive black dragon, as it tried landing between her and the town's main fortress, she briefly locked eyes with it, and swore vengeance on the baleful lights within, for what it had done to Helgen, for being a worthy foe that she wanted to test herself against, and for making her feel, for the second time in her life, helpless and lost.

She knew the beast got the message, as its eyes narrowed, but even as it opened its fanged maw (whether to breathe fire upon the defiant mortal or roar a challenge in kind she could not say) the surviving Legionnaire who'd made it there with her had rushed to shut the door between the two.

It's furious tantrum at being denied its prey could be heard across all of Skyrim, and the pair could do little but watch as its attempts to break in caused the fort to shudder and crumble, falling rubble and debris sealing off their entrance.

The Legionnaire had cut her free, introduced himself as Hadvar, and been understanding and a good sport when she'd immediately slugged him in the face. He'd pointed her to a chest of Legion leathers, while nursing his bruised jaw, and offered her a sword that she'd refused.

As far as she could judge (and she had faith in her ability to judge people, having grown up in post-war Bravil), Hadvar wasn't a bad sort. Honest, earnest, kind-hearted, easy on the eyes, and good with his head, he hadn't let the unexpected sight of free Stormcloaks roaming the fort disarm him for roo long, and had tried to reason with them to work together. Then he'd subsequently proven the strength of his sword-arm when they'd attacked him, and he'd had to cut him down. Truly, Yang might have been able to appreciate Hadvar as a potential companion...

Except for the fact that he'd almost let her get executed.

Sure, he'd protested, and apologized, but he'd still been a bit too willing to follow a superior's orders over his own heart. And Yang had almost lost her head for it. As much as she could appreciate his finer physical qualities...

Well, it wasn't as if Yang had come to Skyrim looking for love anyway. It had been but a flight of passing fancy, one that had vanished as soon as she'd spared a thought for it. Yang sighed and subtly shook her head, irritated. She'd just turned eighteen, earlier in the year, and while she was physically mature mentally she found that she still occassionally felt the same stirrings of desire for companionship that had taken hold of many young lasses in her village. Personally, she considered it lucky that none of the boys in her village had been able to catch her eye, both for her and for them should Tai (the unarmed combat instructor of the town's Fighters Guild) have found out.

Well, that didn't matter either. Any port in a storm, as her father had told her. The two of them were merely allies of convenience at the moment, working together to escape the fortress, and nothing more. At this point, she was desperate enough she'd have accepted help from a troll, or a bear (or even a Stormcloak).

And then they came across the dungeons, and Yang wondered if the Nine had a sense of humor.

Of all the people and creatures she'd met that day, not even the dragon had made her recoil with distaste as much as the fort's torturer. Honestly, it was a miracle he'd managed to survive all this time, though a few Stormcloaks seemed to be trying their best to rectify that little oversight.

Honestly, she'd been tempted to find an accidental distraction until he'd _coincidentally_ been killed before she could intervene. It'd been very tempting, in fact. However, Hadvar was bound by honor and duty to assist a fellow member of the Legion (though even he disapproved of the man's sociopathic sadism, to her delight), and when he'd thanked them for saving his worthless hide by rudely dismissing them and refusing to go with them, she'd barely needed to spend any effort in convincing Hadvar to abandon the man to his choices.

At least he hadn't done more than object when Hadvar had spotted some useful items in a cell, as well as nearby lockpicks. If she'd heard his grating voice while undertaking what was little more than a children's game in Bravil, she'd have probably shown him another way she could use the lockpicks.

He'd passed a sarcastic comment when they'd taken the dead mage's spellbook and potion, but his assistant had convenientl6 found a reason to "dust off his hood" when she'd begun violently gesticulating what he could do with his wit, and Hadvar had quickly hurried her deeper into the dungeons before she could do something the torturer would regret.

It was as she was being pushed past a row of cells, however, that something caught her eye, gave her pause. Looking more closely deep within the cell, she saw light reflecting off a gleaming plate, and for a moment she contemplated picking the cell's lock. Surely such a shining metal plate would be worth a few septims? Then she saw the reflected lights glimmer as the plate moved slightly, and she redoubled her efforts to unlock the cell.

The blood-soaked blonde man in the cell was still breathing!

Sure, Yang had little compunctions about killing other foes in the heat of battle, and she felt no guilt whatsoever about leaving the torturer behind, but even the Bravil-raised youth balked at the idea of simply abandoning an injured youth. As she rushed forward to assess the injured man, Hadvar spoke up from behind her: "Wait, who... this cell was supposed to be empty. We didn't bring him in here; there are no records of a prisoner in this cell! This cell was empty when I patrolled the block last week! And how did he get so injured?"

Yang traced the holes that had been punched cleanly through his breastplate and the odd black fabric beneath, but despite all the blood she could find no cuts or open wounds, let alone the deep ones that should have riddled his chest, judging by the state of his armor. There was mild bruising, but nothing that should have produced so much blood.

Had a skilled healer come and work on him? It couldn't have been the Stormcloaks; their disdain for magic aside, the cell had been locked, and there was no reason for them to heal his wounds but leave him behind. And it couldn't have been the Legion; they didn't even know he'd been in the cell, and if they'd healed him there was little reason for them to leave him in his clothes instead of changing him into prisoner rags, or removing the sheath by his side. So who could it have been?

What she did know, as the fort rumbled above her as the dragon continued its assault, was that they had to get out before the entire fort collapsed and trapped them in a cave-in, and the Nord in front of her was not grievously-injured. Making her up her mind, she began shaking him vigorously.

His eyelids fluttered and he began stirring, and she stared deep into his baby blues, before giving him a cocky grin and beginning: "Hey, you. You're finally awake.'

Unfortunately, she wasn't able to go any further than that, before the man beneath her turned green, and threw up suddenly and violently all over her boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go, the first original chapter of the story! I'll be honest... I rewrote this whole thing from scratch. I'd originally written this from Jaune's perspective, of him waking up in the cell, disoriented, and getting his bearings. But as I tried writing it, I found it extremely awkward, with little proper flow. And so I scrapped a few thousand words and started again from scratch.
> 
> I understand that I may, perhaps, seem a bit harsh on the Stormcloaks. To that, I just want to point out that the initial section is written from Yang's perspective. And Yang, while being a Nord, was born and raised in Cyrodiil. Theological matters may be one thing, but she doesn't necessarily give a rat's ass about provincial independence, especially not when considering that anyone with two eyes in Cyrodiil can see a Second Great War looming on the horizon. She might also be a tad biased and resentful, since Raven "Bitch" Branwen did abandon her family for Skyrim...
> 
> Also, unlike the game's silent protagonist Dovahkiin... there's no way I can see Yang being in the least bit quiet and passive about being in a cart full of Stormcloaks who'd gotten her captured and sent to her execution. Or being executed by the Imperials for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And definitely not when an actual, honest-to-Talos, Oblivion-damned dragon of all things is wreaking havoc and breathing fire down onto the town below while flaming rocks are hurtling down from the sky and smashing stone towers like they were little more than kindling. Yang, as a character, has always struck me as mildly insecure, putting up a massive front of cocky arrogance and sureity and masking any signs of weakness with her fiery temper, and these aspects would probably have only been amplified as a Nord growing up in post-war Tamriel without Summer Rose as a second mother.
> 
> As for Yang briefly checking out Hadvar... people do check out other people. Especially when you're young, hormonal, and stressed. RWBY-Yang does seem to be very forward at first glance, openly checking out other guys before Initiation, and is especially willing to exploit her attractiveness and weaponize her femininity. Sure, she doesm't really form romantic attachments as easily (probably due to Raven), but she's definitely no blushing prude.
> 
> Now imagine a Yang without Summer's super-mom upbringing, without the responsibility from raising Ruby, and put her in a Middle Ages society where brawls and honour duels are commonplace, and where the definition of "public decency" has been loosened by a devastating war, crushing economic conditions, and widespread crime, and then make her a Nord, fiery and passionate.
> 
> That said, I don't want people to think I'm Hadvar-bashing, either. Yang's just had one of the worst and most stresstul days of her life so far, and Hadvar did almost let her die...
> 
> As for why the chapter was so short... I felt like this chapter worked best as a brief introduction into the Yang-onborn, before we really get into the swing of things.
> 
> And don't worry, Jaune only threw up because of the smell of blood and viscera, combined with his injuries and disorientation, overwhelmed him. Remember, Grimm don't bleed, and he hasn't really killed anyone at this point, as far as I can tell.


	3. Waking Nightmares

The sunlight trickling in through her window tickled at her senses, and slowly the pajama-clad figure began to stir, before hissing and wincing as spikes of pain shot up behind her eyes.

In the chair next to her bed, a dozing Taiyang was woken up by the slight noise and movement (a decade as a trained Huntsman, followed by another two as a father, had made him rather sensitive to that sort of thing), and as he turned to check up on Ruby Rose, he found his second daughter attempting to sit up slowly. Not missing a beat, he quickly moved to her bedside, and gave her a tight and warm embrace while exclaiming: "Ruby! You're awake!"

Ruby, meanwhile, was still struggling to get her faculties back in order (and wondering why her father wasn't doing anything about the Grimm hammering nails into the back of her skull), and only managed to lean into the hug as she groaned: "Ugh... what happened?"

"Your friends, Pyrrha and Weiss." Taiyang explained, as though that answered everything. "They got you out of there, and brought you and Yang home safe."

That raised more questions than it answered to Ruby's disoriented mind (such as what "there" was), and as she tried focusing through the pain, to seize on the fragments of memories her waking mind hadn't grasped yet, a name resonated with her, and a vision of an empty bloodstained sleeve made her gasp: "Wait! Yang! Is she alright!?"

Taiyang couldn't help it; he had to look away from her concerned gaze, or else the memory of what they'd done to his baby girl would overwhelm him again. Taking a moment to compose himself, he tried to put it delicately: "Uh... She's uh... she's gonna be alright."

Eventually. Hopefully.

"I think she's just... I think it's just gonna take some time for her to get used to things."

Understatement of the year.

"She's too strong to let this stop her."

He'd always hoped she'd be nothing like Raven (and been disappointed in that regard the first time she'd thrown a tantrum), but if there was ever one thing he hoped she'd inherited from her egg donor, at that moment, it would have been her strength, her drive, her sheer stubborn resilience.

"I'm just glad to have my girls back at home."

And that the only statement so far that was nothing but the whole truth.

He'd fallen into a rut when Raven had walked out on him. He'd fallen into a deep depression when he'd lost Summer. He'd have been destroyed if he'd lost either one of his girls as well, let alone both of them, as he'd learned that day.

There was a moment of silence as Ruby's mind chewed on those words, before the image of a burning tower, and a falling figure, hit her. Quietly, she followed up: "And... what about Jaune? Is he okay?"

Taiyang could only look away from her, unable to meet her eyes. He'd been worried when his introverted daughter had suddenly been admitted to Beacon, 2 years before she'd even graduated from Signal, and had left behind the few friends she'd painstakingly made. And he'd been delighted when she'd written back saying that she'd made a new friend (though he'd been less happy to find out that the first friend she'd made a friend on her own had been a guy, but he trusted Yang to keep pests away from her). Eventually, Taiyang did the only thing he could do; he took the coward's way out: "I'll... I'll let Pyrrha explain it to you, alright? I'll let them know that you're awake."

Ruby could only blink in bewilderment at her father's rapidly-retreating back, before Pyrrha entered the room a few moments later, the Champion rushing to embrace the Red Reaper. As a lost Ruby weakly returned the hug, Pyrrha began: "Ruby, you're finally awake-"

"Pyrrha, what are you doing here?" Ruby interjected, confused. "Why aren't you back at Beacon?"

"Beacon's... Beacon's fallen, Ruby, and so has most of Vale. You did something to the Grimm Dragon, something that stopped it, but it's still alive, and the Grimm are still swarming around the area."

"I did... what?"

"Your Uncle Qrow knows more than I do, and he said that he'll explain the rest to you."

"O...kay? So why aren't you back home instead?"

"It's not easy to get a Bullhead with all the Nevermore and Griffons around Vale. Also... also Ren, Nora, and I... we want to go after whoever was behind the Fall. According to Qrow, the enemy's trail leads to Haven. So that's where we're heading to next. We owe Jaune that much, at least..."

The final piece of the puzzle clicked in Ruby's head, a falling figure riddled with sizzling glass projectiles, and she forced the words out through a suddenly-constricted throat: "Jaune... is he... really?"

Pyrrha took a deep breath and looked away, still racked with guilt by the memory of her failure. If she hadn't gotten distracted, if she'd gotten there earlier, if she'd been quicker, stronger, more skilled... even now, weeks after the Fall, it still hurt. They all hurt.

Then again, Team NPR hadn't just lost a member.

They'd lost a leader, a friend, a brother, or something that could have been more. All because, when it'd mattered, they hadn't been there with him, their leader, the weakest member of Team JNPR, when he'd needed them the most.

She couldn't lie to Ruby. She was a friend, and she'd been his first friend. He wouldn't have wanted that. And so, Pyrrha took a deep breath, looked into Ruby's eyes, and began: "Jaune... he's _gone_. His aura must have been in the red by the time we got there... and taking those glass shards finally did him in."

The reason he took those shards was left unsaid; neither needed to be reminded of it. Looking up at the side of Pyrrha's face, Ruby's voice trembled as she asked: "Can I... can I see his body?"

"We... we think she imbued her glass weapons with her fire magic; when we finally recovered from what your eyes did, he was just... gone. All that was left was a puddle of blood, his scroll, and his broken sword."

 _Another empty grave, just like Mom_ , Ruby bitterly thought to herself, even as tears welled up in her eyes. The thought of family, though, made her speak up: "And... what about his family? Have they been told?"

"... did he ever tell you that he faked his transcripts and ran away from home to Beacon?" Pyrrha quietly asked.

"... he did _what_?"

"Anyway, the point is, he never told us anything about his family, and there wasn't anything in his Beacon-issued scroll, either. We tried looking up the name "Arc", but with the CCT down... Ren's taken to checking the library for historical records, looking for any old genealogies to trace, and Qrow and Nora have promised to keep a ear out for rumors, but so far we've had no such luck..."

The thought of another hero sacrificed, _another_ family losing someone precious, and never knowing what happened to them, was the final straw for Ruby. As she began sobbing, Pyrrha quietly rubbed her back, murmuring: "It wasn't your fault, Ruby..."

"It was! If I'd been paying attention... if I'd been more careful... if he hadn't had to push me out of the way..."

"And I was the one who'd been pinning down Cinder! I was Jaune's partner! He wouldn't even have been there if not for me..."

"..."

"..."

"How about the two of you just agree that it's Cinder's fault, and take it out on her when we track her down?" Qrow piped up from the doorway, breaking the somber silence. Pyrrha shot the alcoholic a glare, but Ruby gave her favorite uncle a smile, relieved to see he was alright. Weathering Pyrrha's glare, he nonchalantly finished off the contents of his hip flask, and asked her: "Mind if we have a minute?"

Pyrrha sighed, by now familiar with his bluntness, and took a second to look over her friend before releasing her. As she got up and turned, she excused herself easily: "Well, I'm off to check on Ren and Nora."

As the door closed, Qrow approached his second niece, and said: "Good to see you're finally awake, kid. So, what do you want to know?"

**-HELGEN DUNGEONS, 17TH OF LAST SEED 4E201-**

_Gross, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross, gross_ _!_ Yang internally wailed as she glared at the sick now covering her boots, though outwardly the only change to her facial expression was a slight tightening of her jaw. True, after all the dirt, ash, blood, and viscera that caked her boots from running through the town (and kicking her way through no small number of Stormcloaks), a little more vomit wouldn't even be noticeable, let alone pose a health hazard to her body. And yet, there was just something about human waste and excrement that just naturally disgusted her.

"Ugh, I'm sorry..." Jaune groaned unsteadily below her, still disoriented from having fought against the fire witch and the Grimm dragon, losing said battle, and then waking up to the strong smell of guts and gore violently shaking him awake. As his eyes slowly adapted to the sudden illumination, his instincts kicked in, and he tried to push himself up. He was still weakened from his battle, though, and was only kept from falling into his own vomit by the blonde figure above him, who'd moved automatically to catch him.

Exchanging a look, Hadvar and Yang quietly debated leaving the boy behind, or at the very least leaving him in the questionable care of the torturer and his far-more-sane assistant. On the one hand, he'd clearly been through Oblivion, even with the skilled healer who had tended to him, and it might have been more merciful to quickly slit his throat, rather than letting him be crushed to death or suffocate when the fort collapsed. On the other hand, at the very least, Hadvar needed to escape, if only so he could warn the surrounding settlements (such as Riverwood, where his uncle lived) about the dragon threat, and Yang was determined to survive, if only so she could find out what had happened to her mother. They didn't know if they could risk being slowed down by taking on an extra person, let alone one who seemed to be little more than dead weight.

Fortunately, before they made a decision, the boy's eyes burst wide open, and he began looking around wildly and flailing as he gasped: "The dragon! Fire!"

"Woah, easy there, kid. Settle down." Yang reassured him, pinning his struggling limbs down gently but firmly (and making sure neither of them were touching vomit). Jaune looked up at the human contact, and relaxed upon seeing a mostly-familiar face, once again succumbing to unconsciousness. Yang quickly made up her mind: "Hadvar, you carry the boy. I'll clear us a path out of here."

"Are you sure?" Hadvar double-checked.

"It wouldn't sit right with either of us, to just leave him behind." Yang defended, unwilling to admit that she had been considering it just a few moments before. "Also, you heard what he was ranting; he might know something about the dragon that's trying to kill us all right now."

"You have a point..." Hadvar conceded, slinging the boy's prone form over his shoulder, and together the two continued the arduous task of fighting their way to freedom.

**-ONE TUTORIAL DUNGEON LATER-**

The smell of fresh air hit Jaune first. He'd grown up in a small town near the frontier, but his family had always been overprotective of him; he'd never even gotten close to the walls, let alone been able to sneak out into the surrounding forests, and the only times he'd been in unspoiled nature were on the rare camping trips to Shion. So he'd treasured his time in Beacon dearly; even the trip to Forever Fall, marred as it was by him being blackmailed by Cardin and almost hurting Pyrrha (and dying), had been a novel experience. And so, when the scent hit his brain, he subconsciously realized that he was _outside_.

The shaking and jolting registered in his mind next. He was moving, though not under his own power, clearly. And the fact that his motion sickness wasn't acting up meant he probably wasn't on an airship or a boat. A train, maybe? Or was he being carried?

Funnily enough, it was the sudden absence of light that did it for him. Light had been tickling at his senses for a while now, gradually growing stronger and stronger in intensity, but it was the sudden darkness that finally kicked his instincts into overdrive. Rather than struggle, though, he merely snapped his eyes open, wondering if a Nevermore was flying above him.

Yang and Hadvar, meanwhile, peeked out from the rock they'd hidden behind, and apprehensively watched the black dragon fly overhead past them. Only once it was out of sight did they allow themselves to relax, release the breath they hadn't even noticed they'd been holding. None of them would admit to jumping, though, when a soft voice piped up over Hadvar's shoulders: "Ummm... don't suppose you could let me down now?"

"Oh, look, Vomit Boy's finally awake." Yang sneered, with only a _slight_ promise of impending pain, as Hadvar gently rested him against the rock. "You owe me for my shoes, Vomit Boy."

For a moment, Jaune quailed, tempted to apologize to Yang. Then he looked closer, and wondered how he could have ever mistaken the blonde bombshell for Yang Xiao-Long. Sure, she looked like she could've been her twin sister, but this girl's equipment was nothing like the fashionably low-cut and revealing clothes the Yang he knew flaunted. Her gauntlets were also rough grey metal, rather than the well-polished yellow bracelets he knew and feared, but what convinced him that the blonde bombshell in front of him couldn't possibly be Yang Xiao-Long was the hair.

After all, Yang Xiao-Long protected her hair like a wolf protected its cubs. There was no way Yang Xiao-Long would have ever allowed her hair to get so messy and unkempt... at least, not without levelling the entire building and breaking a few bones.

Sighing, he propped himself up, and mentally cursed his luck and motion sickness, that he'd thrown up on a _second_ blonde bombshell's boots, _and_ earned the nickname of Vomit Boy a second time! Inwardly, he swore that he'd buy her new boots once he got the chance to leave Beacon and go into Vale, and then paused, as the weight of the words hit him. Quickly looking around, he urgently asked: "What happened? Where's my team? And where's the dragon?"

"Big black flying lizard?" Yang confirmed rhetorically, and as Jaune nodded quickly she jerked her thumb towards the mountains, and replied: "Flown back off to whichever plane of Oblivion it came from, hopefully. But I doubt we'd be so lucky."

"And as for what happened..." Hadvar followed up, offering him a waterskin. "We were hoping you could tell us. We found you alone, at the bottom of the keep, gravely wounded, and pulled you out before the dragon brought the whole place down on us."

Jaune quickly processed the information, along with his surroundings. They were just outside a cave, which he guessed had been the secret exit tunnels to the keep they'd saved him from. His best guess was that they were in the Emerald Forest, following a secret escape route from the clock tower, and that it'd been a few days since the battle. Presumably, his team had successfully pulled him out and patched him up, before continuing the fight, but it didn't add up. For one thing, after the stunt he'd pulled, he doubted anyone could have pried Pyrrha off of him with a crowbar. For another, he'd seen the massive Grimm swarms; between the chaos of the Atlesian army turning on them, and the Grimm invading Vale, he doubted that even the numerous Huntsmen and Huntresses of Vale could have begun clean-up operations quite so quickly.

Morever, the equipment of the people who'd rescued him... they reminded him more of his initial equipment, when he'd entered Beacon, than the usual mecha-shift weaponry that most Huntsmen and Huntresses employed. The more he thought about the situation, the weirder it all seemed.

Cautiously, playing up his injuries, weakness, and disorientation (not that he needed to do much acting), he began prying: "Thanks for the help... by the way, I didn't catch your names. Who are you two? And where are we?"

"Ah, my apologies, it's been a long day." The leather-armored brunette placed his right fist upon his left breast, and with a short bow began: "I am Acting-Quaestor Hadvar, of the Fifth Imperial Legion, Skyrim."

Jaune blinked in bemusement, trying to process what he'd been told. Sure, he'd have been the first to admit that he wasn't the brightest or most studious teenager in Beacon, but he hadn't heard of any empires in Remnant, let alone a place called Skyrim. It definitely wasn't anywhere near Vale, at least; the snowfall made him wonder if he was somewhere near Atlas. It was the blonde's next words, however, that froze his blood.

"And I'm Yang Xiao-Long of Bravil." Yang introduced herself to Jaune with a cocky grin he recognized (and dreaded), before she glared at the two in mock reproach, and added: "The girl whose head almost got chopped off thanks to Hadvar, and whose boots you ruined."

"It wasn't my intention! And I helped you escape in the end, didn't I?" Hadvar protested desperately. Jaune ignored them, trying to process their words. His initial thought was that this was all a joke Yang was playing on him; Yang certainly did love her jokes. But she knew when to be serious, too; he doubted she'd have dragged him all the way to the Emerald Forest or Atlas, pretend not to know him after he'd vomited on her shoes _again_ , and mess up her hair. Not when Vale and Beacon were under attack, and not when he'd been so severely wounded trying to save Ruby.

And speaking of severe wounds... how _had_ they managed to patch him up? He'd seen a lot of blood, and felt easily half a dozen holes burning in his chest. Team RWBY was good, and his partner was better, but he doubted they could've fended off Cinder _and_ the Grimm Dragon at the same time, _and_ pulled him out. In fact, when the white warm light had engulfed him, he'd been very sure that he'd actually bought the farm...

The memory of some Vacuoan comics he and Ruby had been discussing weeks ago came to him, and for a moment he wanted to laugh at his imagination. _Dying and being transported to a new world? Really, Jaune? You're 17, not 7! Forget your sisters, Ruby would die of laughter if she heard the thought even crossed your mind!_

 _... but at the same time, Toto, we're clearly not in Kansas anymore_ , Jaune mused, looking around at his surroundings. Then he looked up, and his jaw dropped.

Above him, the moons were barely visible in the darkening evening sky. _Two_ moons. Two _unbroken_ moons. The sight was breathtakingly beautiful, but even as he took in the view, ice began forming in his gut.

"This may sound like a weird question, but what continent are we on?" Jaune finally spoke up carefully, interrupting the good-natured argument that had begun between the two, before inwardly cringing as the two looked at him like he'd been touched in the head.

"We're on Tamriel, of course?"

"... do the names "Remnant", "Vale", or "Grimm" mean anything to you?"

Two heads shook, bemused.

"... and what about "RWBY"?"

"What, like the precious red gems?" Yang asked, cocking her head in confusion at his questions, before changing the subject: "Anyway, Vomit Boy, before we get to town, we were hoping that you could tell us more about the dragon attack you mentioned earlier."

"Any information you have would be of great importance to us, boy." Hadvar followed up, unknowingly putting even more stress on a shell-shocked Jaune. "Today was the first time we, or anyone really, has seen a dragon in perhaps three Ages!"

Jaune wordlessly slumped against the rock he'd been resting on, before beginning to laugh hollowly, ignoring the the looks of concern the two Nords gave him.

After all, he'd been prepared for the worst, when he'd taken Pyrrha's place, but he doubted anyone could've warned him that he'd die to a dragon attack, the first anyone could remember... and wake up to _another_ dragon attack, the first anyone there could remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we finally are, and all I can say is apologies for the delay; I wanted to get it out a week ago, but my schedule finally caught up to my body and I've been sick on-and-off for the past week or two.
> 
> I'll be honest; I had absolutely no idea how to start this chapter. I really couldn't figure out how a naive idealistic kid would react to dying, and then waking up in an unfamiliar place surrounded by familiar faces. I abused the hell out of time-skips in the shorter version of the story specifically so I wouldn't have to answer such awkward questions...
> 
> And that is why I decided to basically rip off what I did in TWOA, which is to say I put a Remnant section dealing with the fallout of Jaune's death to pad out the chapter, before dealing with what Jaune's going through. It's not stealing if you're doing it to yourself, after all.
> 
> I have no idea if Jaune ever opened up to anyone besides Pyrrha about his transcripts being faked. I always figured he at least told the rest of his team (eventually), and I believed that Ozpin knew all along that faked transcripts were a thing, but was willing to reward people resourceful enough to get their hands on said transcripts (with the assumption that, if they were smart enough to find fake transcripts, they'd be smart enough to do the research on the basics of being a Hunstman, like Aura and Semblances and fighting) and used Initiation as a way to test people's strength and skill. But I doubt he ever actually told Team RWBY, and so I'm just going to roll with it.
> 
> As for the dig at Dovah-Yang's hair... well, please remember Skyrim seems to be in the Medieval Ages. Not that they didn't have the occasional culture of bathing, but please imagine the discomfort of bathing in a freezing stream. None of the dwellings in Skyrim seem to have stuff like water tubs or rooms for heating water (let alone central heating and running water), and they seem to use Troll Fat as a substitute for soap. Sure, Dovah-Yang takes exceptional care of her hair (for a person in Tamriel), but you really can't compare war-torn disaster-stricken Skyrim to the quality of life of a Dust-powered modern society that can be found in Remnant.
> 
> Hopefully, the next few chapters should come more easily (and be a lot less boring and awkward), now that they've left the first dungeon, gotten to know each other, and have entered the vast open world of Skyrim.


	4. Confused Explanations

"So, let me get this straight..." Yang murmured, rubbing her temples as she stared at the young boy seated next to her. "You're from a whole _other world_ , you were fighting a _completely different_ giant black dragon, and you know _absolutely nothing_ about the one which destroyed Helgen?"

"... pretty much, yeah?" Jaune said with far more confidence than he felt, knowing just how ridiculous it sounded. Across the table, Hadvar and his uncle, the blacksmith Alvor, had opted to give the pair some privacy (and let Yang deal with Jaune), tuning them out in favor of discussing their next potential courses of action. "Look, I'm really grateful that you saved my life, and that's why I'm telling you as much of the truth as I can figure out for myself, but I really don't know anything about what happened to your town!"

"Do you take me for a fool, Vomit Boy?" Yang hissed at him, eyes flashing scarlet, and Jaune was sorely reminded of his world's Yang Xiao-Long, and especially her temper. "Couldn't you have just told the truth, instead of coming up with a story even a child would find difficult to believe?"

"But I am telling you the truth!"

Yang glared at Jaune, trying to find any hint of deception, but there was none. So, either he was one of the best liars in Tamriel (something she sorely doubted, seeing the quality of the stories he was telling), or he genuinely believed his own spiel. Sighing, her previous anger ebbed away, replaced with the frustrating knowledge that she'd worked so hard, risked so much, almost died multiple times even, and all she had to show for it at the moment was a boy from another world, a wanted Imperial poster of her in a burning town, and a story of a dragon.

Unfortunately for Jaune, whenever she felt frustrated, she coped by getting angry (again). She knew she was being unfair, but she _had_ saved his life, and it was with a harsh tone that she countered: "Look, Jaune... I saved your life. At the very least, you _owe_ me an explanation, some proof, _any_ reason to believe your extraordinary claims."

Jaune gulped, knowing that tone. He'd grown up with many sisters, after all, and had heard it many times. Even worse, he knew what an angry Yang could do. Holding his hands out in surrender, he chose to throw himself at the mercy of the court: "Yang, I do owe you my life, and I give you my word that I'll do whatever you ask, whatever I can to repay it! And an Arc never goes back on his word But, as for me proving it..."

Jaune paused, remembering that his sword was still missing, and had broken. But he still had his shield-sheath, and his Aura _should_ have recovered by now...

A very, very, _very_ dumb idea struck him. But, he was desperate enough to defuse Yang that he seized it without a second thought.

Drawing his sheath (to the surprise of everybody in Alvor's house), he said: "I want you to hit me as hard as you can, right here."

"... are you sure about this?" Hadvar asked, concerned. "I don't know what you two were discussing, but I've seen her cave a bear's skull in with a single blow."

"Now, now, Hadvar, it's not our place to judge others for... certain, tendencies." Alvor, his uncle, chided, even as he took a step back.

Yang ignored them all, instead seeing an outlet for her pent-up stress. Unlike the pair, she had a fair bit of experience in analyzing others (practically a necessity in Bravil, knowing who was eyeing you as an easy mark). From the hints of muscle, the way he carried himself, she could tell that the boy was no untrained milk-drinker; she felt no need to hold back, and she gave him a cocky grin, before rearing her fist back.

Jaune gulped again, knowing that look. But it was too late for regrets. All he could do, as she tried to slug him, was act on the instinct drilled into him through months of training with the best of the best.

Yang grinned in vindication as she saw him shift his weight onto his forward foot, and his empty sheath moved to parry her attack.

That vindication turned into surprise, surprised echoed thrice through out the room, as his sheath suddenly transformed into a heater shield, which instead blocked her punch with a bright white flash.

Jaune nodded in satisfaction behind his shield. He could feel the force behind Yang's fist; even the Ursa Major he'd faced in Forever Fall would've lost to that blow. But his shield was still up and in his hands; his grip was as tight and firm as ever, and his foe was overextended, unsteady on her feet. Most of all, though, he'd confirmed that his Aura still worked, still protected him.

Surprisingly, it was Alvor who was on him first, demanding: "What is that?! How did your sheath do that?! And what material is it even made out of?!"

"It's a hand-me-down from my family; my sheath turns into a shield." Jaune replied with a shrug, having seen more impressive weapons. "It's common enough where I come from; my partner's sword could transform into a javelin as well. As for how it works... I don't know, and I don't know what it's made out of."

"So, Vomit Boy, what's with the glowing thing?" Yang asked, poking at him and finding the field to be exceptionally sturdy. Jaune shrugged once more, handing his sheath over to Alvor, who immediately began poking and prodding at it. Hadvar joined in, and with a thoughtful impact murmured: "It feels like an Ironflesh spell? No, perhaps much stronger? But there wasn't any casting..."

"This... is Aura. It's _supposed_ to be a manifestation of my soul, protecting me from damage. Skilled wielders of Aura can even channel it into their weapons, apparently, to sharpen their edge." Jaune explained, trying to recall what Pyrrha had told him a life ago. "Everyone in the academies had theirs unlocked; we needed it, to fight."

 _So I was right_ , Yang nodded to herself in satisfaction, anger once more ebbing away now that she'd been given reasonable proof that he really was from another world, that she wasn't being lied to, and that the boy she'd fought to save may not have been dead weight after all, but somebody who could perhaps lend _some_ assistance to her on her journey.

Hadvar, meanwhile, was less cheerful, noting the unspoken words: "Children had these "Auras" unlocked, and were sent to academies to learn how to fight? But if _everyone_ has Aura like this, massive battles would be a nightmare..."

"Oh, we weren't trained to fight each other, except perhaps in show tournaments and practice spars." Jaune naively explained, recalling some of Pyrrha's more private comments about her championships (and being in the dark about bandits, the Great War, the Faunus War, and criminals with Aura, to say nothing of the shadow wars between Salem and Ozpin). "We trained to protect humanity from the Grimm."

"You mentioned those before." Yang noted. "Are they common knowledge in your world?"

Jaune nodded. "The whole of humanity's under attack by the Grimm; last time I saw a map, they'd overrun perhaps two-thirds of the world's landmass? They're creatures of darkness and shadow, who exist solely to wipe out mankind."

"Well... sounds a lot like Skyrim, I suppose." Hadvar joked after a pregnant pause. Jaune raised an eyebrow at that, and Yang chuckled, and explained: "Skyrim's known as one of the harshest lands in Tamriel; half the year is spent surviving the cruel long winters, every child learns how to use an axe as soon as they can lift one to protect themselves from the wildlife, and now I guess there's a _slight_ dragon problem. But it's still the land my bitch of a mother called home."

"By the Nine, this metal is beyond even ebony! But lighter than glass!" Alvor suddenly announced, startling them. "But, I can't make head or tails of the contraptions behind this... boy, how much do you want for this?"

"It's a family heirloom; I'm not selling it!" Jaune protested, snatching it back from the awestruck blacksmith. Before Alvor could counter, Hadvar patted him on the shoulder, trying to calm him down, and quickly interrupted: "Alright, uncle, let's focus on what's important. Yang, could you go to Whiterun, and deliver a message to the Jarl? Tell him that Riverwood needs security to be stepped up. I'll rest here and recover my strength, before heading to Solitude to meet up with General Tullius and try to clear your name."

"May the Divines guide your journey, Hadvar." Yang intoned, before grabbing Jaune, and saying: "Come on, Vomit Boy! We're off to get you a change of clothes, and then we're following the river to Whiterun. And, of course, I'm putting it all on your tab."

"You know, maybe I should have just sold my sheath after all..." Jaune murmured under his breath, as soon as he was safely out of earshot of Alvor. "I'm sure Alvor would've been more than happy to pay for all this."

Yang laughed good-naturedly, and lightly clapped him on the back. Jaune relaxed, shooting her a light smile in return. Sure, he wasn't as familiar with Yang Xiao-Long as, say, Ruby or Weiss, and he knew that this wasn't the same Yang Xiao-Long he knew from Beacon, but subconsciously he couldn't help but ascribe the mannerisms and expressions of the one he knew to the one in front of him. Sure, this one seemed to be far more violent, petty, and self-serving, and he knew he was being naive and trusting, but she _had_ saved his life. More importantly, it wasn't like he had anyone else he could rely on, and at least Yang seemed to know what she was doing.

That happy thought lasted until she led him into the general store, and they walked right into the middle of a fierce argument.

The shopkeeper and the woman in his shop had completely ignored the sound of the door opening in favor of their personal argument, which Jaune took as a very clear sign to leave. However, before he could back out of the shop, Yang simply strutted towards the counter, and rapped her knuckles impatiently against the sturdy wood, getting their attention.

Jaune resisted the strong urge to smack his palm against his face and groan deeply into it, and instead coped by mentally filing this Yang as "having worse social skills than Ruby".

The pair, meanwhile, backed away, their cheeks flushed, and with a quick clearing of his throat the man behind the counter welcomed them into his shop with an apology that they had to witness the argument. Yang simply grunted non-committaly, and asked if he had some clothes for sale for Jaune. The shopkeep, Lucan, gave him a quick once-over, and called for his sister, Camilla, to take Jaune's measurements, leaving him and Yang to begin the arduous task of haggling and selling the broken scraps of weapons she'd looted from the Stormcloaks in Helgen to him respectively.

As he was brought to a more private area of the shop upstairs, Jaune attempted to make small talk with Camilla, though he had no idea where "Cyrodiil" was, nor did he know how to explain what he used to do, where he was from, or how "training to be a hunter" had led to his hoodie and breastplate being in it's current state ("It's got more holes than a thief's excuse!"). Fortunately, he didn't need to talk much once the roll of measuring tape was brought out; Camilla seemed to have suddenly become tongue-tied, stammering over her words as he removed his ruined equipment.

Jaune, for his part, saw nothing wrong with this; he'd grown up with seven older sisters who'd loved to dress him up after all, and he'd shared a room with _Nora_ and _Pyrrha_.

Hell, Pyrrha'd been even worse; his poor partner's face had been as red as her hair, and she'd been reduced to squeaks, coincidentally whenever he'd taken off his hoodie. He'd thought the two might've been related, and had asked Pyrrha if she minded him changing in their common room, but Pyrrha had denied it, saying it was nothing. She'd even gone as far as to vehemently protest when he'd offered to change in the bathroom anyway, stressing that she didn't want him to go to any further trouble. And he trusted his partner to know best, so he'd set aside his concerns and chosen to follow her advice.

He did have to raise an eyebrow and try to speak up when he saw the clothes Camilla brought for him to try out.

Meanwhile, the trade negotiations downstairs were getting heated, as Lucan proved his worth as a general goods store owner in a quiet town while Yang combined a crafty Imperial upbringing with the stubbornness that all Nords were born with. Lucan, for his part, pointed out that the only thing he could do with the pile of scrap metal Yang had brought him was to sell it to Alvor to be melted down, while Yang waved around the sword she'd picked out as she demanded double of what he was offering, on grounds that two hundred pounds of iron and steel, even if it was trashed junk, was still two hundred pounds of quality iron and steel. Fortunately for Lucan's countertop, they were interrupted by Jaune and Camilla coming down the stairs, announcing their return. Yang nodded, turning to Jaune to respond, before stiffening.

Lucan, however, had absolutely no trouble in speaking up: "What in Oblivion is that?"

"Camilla assured me that this was the loosest shirt you had in stock." Jaune explained, picking at his tight itchy tunic, and longing forlornly for his baggy comfy hoodie once more.

"Are you sure?" Lucan asked skeptically, raising his eyebrow at his drooling sister. "I can always double-check the back..."

"No, no, it's fine." Yang quickly interjected, after nodding appreciatively. "Besides, he's a warrior; loose clothing would be a liability, with how it could catch on something or be grabbed."

 _And the lack of blood circulation wouldn't?_ Jaune mentally retorted, though he held his tongue. The clothes were being bought for him, after all, and he wasn't ungrateful enough to complain. Also, growing up with seven sisters had taught him the wisdom in holding his tongue, especially when girls were buying clothes for him. _The poor place probably just has difficulty getting supplies, what with that civil war the blacksmith mentioned_...

"Anyway, shopkeep, will the metal at least cover the cost of a new sword and the tunic?" Yang asked, changing the subject. She was a bit short on coin, having spent a fair bit travelling to Skyrim from Bravil, and wanted the discount.

"I'd love to say yes, but costs are on the rise with the Civil War intensifying." Lucan countered, clearly not willing to agree.

"And there was that break-in..." Camilla reminded him.

"There was a break-in?" Jaune asked, concerned. He needed new clothes and a weapon, sure, but he wouldn't have felt right, getting a discount if the shopkeep was struggling.

Misunderstanding his expression, Lucan quickly defended: "Yes, we did have a bit of a... break-in. _But_ we still have plenty to sell. Robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold. In the shape of a dragon's claw."

"We could get it back for you!" Jaune eagerly spoke up, missing Yang's quick gesturing.

"You could?" Lucan asked, before excitedly adding: "I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back, along with the tunic and the sword. If you're going after those thieves, you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow, northwest of town."

""So this is your plan, Lucan?" Camilla asked, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow at her brother.

"Yes. So now you don't have to go, do you?" Lucan retorted easily, with just a hint of smugness.

"Oh really? Well I think your new helpers here needs a guide." Camilla countered, eyeing Jaune up in a way that made him feel like he was missing some very important context.

"Wh- no... I... Oh, by the Eight, fine. But only to the edge of town!" Lucan relented, unable to come up with any excuses to stop his sister from going with the pair.

Fortunately for Lucan (and unfortunately for Camilla), Yang had by this point grabbed Jaune by the arm, and as she dragged him outside she called back: "Don't worry, we don't need a guide."

"What was that about? Did I miss something?" Jaune asked, once the door was closed behind them.

"I should be asking you what that was about!" Yang hissed back at him. "We have a pretty important task, remember? Delivering news to the Jarl about the dragon so he can try to do something to stop it from burning down the town?!"

"... I just thought we could help, and I didn't want to cost you any more money..." Jaune said, looking down, and for a moment Yang felt like she'd kicked a puppy.

Then she looked back at his clothing, remembered how Camilla had been eyeing him up, and made a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood by teasing: "And I suppose Camilla had nothing to do with your decision, Lover Boy?"

"... I'm not sure what you're talking about?" Jaune merely looked confused, having grown inured to Yang's teasing thanks to a semester at Beacon.

"... you're serious, aren't you... forget it... so, what's the plan? We need to get that message to the Jarl, but you've already said that you'd help the shop. And-"

"And an Arc never goes back on his word." Jaune finished proudly, refusing to be baited by her teasing. Then he shrugged, and explained: "I figured only one of us needs to deliver the message to the Jarl, and only one of us needs to sneak into the bandit camp and get the claw back."

"... you're sure you can handle the bandits on your own?" Yang asked, skeptically. "Weren't you still in _training_ to be a hunter?"

"I have Aura, remember?" Jaune reminded her, and she flushed, before looking away with a scowl. "I'll be done in a flash and meet you in Whiterun, alright?"

**-DRAGONSREACH, THREE HOURS LATER-**

"So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" Farengar, the Jarl's court wizard, asked as he gave Yang a once-over. For a moment, he wondered how the blonde muscle-headed Nord could be helpful to him, save perhaps for a test subject. Then he remembered recent events, and corrected himself: "Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

Yang, having been through this before, cut through his rambling: "All right. Where am I going and what am I fetching?"

"Straight to the point, eh? No need for tedious hows and whys. I like that. Leave those details to your betters, am I right?"

Yang merely raised an eyebrow at him, eyes flashing red, and with a cough Farengar quickly continued: "I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow - a 'Dragonstone,' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself.:

"... did you say Bleak Falls Barrow?"

"Yes, the ancient tomb in the mountain to the west, above the town of Riverwood. Do you need me to mark it for you on your map?"

"No, I know _exactly_ where it is." Yang groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I tried to pump out this chapter as fast as I could, if only to make up for the previous chapter.
> 
> Yes, I know Dovah-Yang' was extremely harsh on Jaune in the beginning of the chapter, but a) she's Yang Xiao-Long if Yang Xiao-Long was even more head-strong and fiery-tempered, b) Yang's been through one of the most stressful days of her life, including multiple brushes with death, c) and all it netted her was a boy with an extraordinary claim and an extraordinary lack of evidence, and d) this is Interwar Tamriel; the lands are harsh, the people are harsher, and life is cheap. Even in the more "civilized" Cyrodiil, there'd have been many who wouldn't have thought twice about leaving Jaune behind. In Skyrim terms, Yang is completely legally justified in reminding the interloper from another world that he owes her a life-debt. And sure, perhaps a more subtle person would have been able to underscore the point without being so blunt, but would that be Yang?
> 
> As for why Hadvar is seemingly so stoic... he's a professional grunt. When important stuff starts flying overhead, he maintains his composure by focusing on his priorities, what he can actually achieve, which are, at the moment, figuring out how to help Uncle Alvor, and getting back to Castle Dour to get debriefed by General Tullius. Any information Jaune may have on fighting dragons would be useful, but the stuff about him being from another world are set aside. Of course, once it's time to kick back and relax, he'll probably discuss it with his squadmates, or drunkedly announce it in a bar where it'd be dismissed as alcohol-induced nonsense.
> 
> And to those who think Jaune's taking this a bit well... he's basically still in the stage of shock where you're just numb and accept everything that's going on. I don't know about most people, but every time I was tossed head-first into the deep end (metaphorically speaking), I could cope decently well initially by forcing myself to only focus on what was in front of me at the time, keeping my mind completely occupied with the situation at hand, and in general just being too busy to actually panic. It was only after I could actually relax, and my mind was rested enough to actually start considering the bigger picture, that I'd begin to freak out as the sheer weight of the situation would hit me. And I didn't spend well over a semester in a prestigious Huntsman training academy learning how to survive missions deep in hostile territory through unclaimed wilderness for long periods of time
> 
> Also, with regards to Yang just ignoring the argument the two NPCs were having and just talking to them instead... that's exactly what most player characters do, right? It's not just me, right? ... right?
> 
> Before anyone starts protesting about Camilla Valerius showing interest in Jaune... she's a girl taken away from the big city and trapped in a boring small town, spending her days dreaming of a more interesting life. Enter Jaune, a fairly soft-spoken and well-groomed youth, with a physique better than most soldiers (better nutrition, more than a semester at Beacon and training with Pyrrha and Nora, and Aura to help boost muscle repair), who's polite and idealistic to the point of naivety. And seeing how open and direct Camilla is when trying to get what she wants (in the base game, it was for Lucan to accept help)...
> 
> Bleak Falls Barrow dialogue was changed from "northeast of town" to "northwest of town", because Bleak Falls Barrow is northwest of Riverwood, not northeast.
> 
> And I've finally set up a ko-fi page; it's just somerandomshittyrambler (alternatively, you can find it on my profile). I cannot stress this enough; this just a tip jar, purely to be on a voluntary basis. It is not for profit, it is not for commissions, and once again it is purely voluntary. Donations will only be to pad my finances, and will not go towards giving me a regular schedule or committing me towards putting out the next chapter any faster. This is because my top priority has been, and has to be, my real life work and job (which this is not), and secondly I already put out chapters as fast as I can, as soon as the chapter is completed and edited to meet my (admittedly-low) standards. I will not compromise on quality, I cannot control for writer's block or lack of interest, and I will not be holding chapters hostage with this. I am not going to ask that my readers give me money; feel free to tip me only if you think I actually deserve the few cents, and you can actually spare the few cents.


	5. Power Revealed

Yang let loose an impressed whistle, as she studied the carnage that was the former bandit camp, inside the entrance of Bleak Falls Barrow. Bodies were strewn all over the place; she counted a dozen bandits, a small army of skeevers, and a few spiders. If Jaune had been solely responsible for all this, she'd have to bump him up from "hunter-in-training" to "Fighters Guild Bouncer", at the very least.

Continuing her descent into the barrow only revealed more corpses, and lots of previous activity. She couldn't tell if Jaune had been there before, not when most of the signs of activity had been relatively recent, but she found herself hoping he still was; she didn't want to continue exploring this place, looking for the Dragonstone tablet, all by herself. She was a brave Nord, to be sure, but even she felt no shame in admitting that a deserted tomb filled with fresh corpses didn't creep her out a fair bit.

Finally, after perhaps ten minutes of exploring the barrow, she came across her first sign of life; a Frostbite spider the size of a horse lay dead in a big webbed room, blood still pouring from its wounds. Even she'd have had a hard time taking something like this down.

An iron sword was buried 'til it's hilt in one of it's main eyes, and closer inspection revealed it to be the cheap iron sword she'd bought for Jaune (Lucan had inked his initials on a strip of leather he'd tied around the sword's pommel). Concern shot through her for a moment, but she calmed down, remembering trying to punch him. She felt like she'd have more luck denting a metal-lined stone wall than getting through his Aura and his shield. With that said, though, Jaune was now unarmed, in the middle of an ancient Nord tomb. And she remembered the tales Raven had told her, a long time ago, about the _draugr_...

The sounds of a wet impact, and metal clanging, drew her attention to a corridor surrounded by torn webs, and she got up and hastened her way towards the source of the noise, descending deeper still into the barrow, until she found what she could only assume were the resting grounds of the entombed. She couldn't be sure; the hollows in the stone catacombs reminded her greatly of pictures of traditional Nordic Halls of the Dead, but these hollows were empty. Meanwhile, across the room, what she could only assume had been the previously peacefully resting inhabitants of the hollows were growling animalistically, swarming around a familiar blonde as they slashed at him with their ancient swords, surrounded by half a dozen more fallen figures.

Jaune, meanwhile, easily deflected the telegraphed blows away from himself, and even as she watched he took advantage of an overswing to step forward, into the guard of one of the mummified figures, before delivering a quick shield bash to the creature's head. The stunned creature was given little time to recover before he swung his shield in a tight arc into it's side, knocking it into the creature next to it. Rolling forward under a slow horizontal swipe, he came to a stop on his knees near the fallen sword of a creature. Gripping it's hilt, he raised his shield to block an overhead swing, and pushed the sword to the side while he stabbed the creature in the chest, right through it's rusted metal armor. Getting up, he withdrew the sword, before quickly decapitating the body.

Behind him, the two fallen creatures were slowly getting back up, and Jaune wheeled around at the movement, sword in hand, only to find Yang stomping on their heads. Nodding at her in thanks, he noted the feral grin she shot him, and placed his sword on the ground, before speaking: "Thanks for the help, Yang. Think you can give me a hand with this guy?"

Yang blinked, only now noticing that one of the wasn't a preserved mummified corpse, but a fresh body, and as she knelt down to check for a pulse, she lightly asked: "What's this? Friend of yours?"

"No... I found him webbed up by the giant spider when I got here, so after I killed the spider I cut him loose. But as soon as he was free, he just started sprinting into the tomb, ranting about how the treasure or power would be his... then, when he got here, he triggered a trap or something, and that wall of spikes just sent him flying into a wall..." Jaune explained.

Yang raised an eyebrow at his words. To her, it sounded like the body on the floor had been a bandit who'd run blindly into a Nord tomb and suffered for it. It didn't matter, anyway; she roughly dropped the body's hand on the floor, and as she started feeling up his pockets she commented: "Well, whoever he was, he's dead now."

Jaune slumped bonelessly against the wall, aghast. Yang looked towards him, alerted by the sound, and asked in a confused manner: "What's wrong?"

"There's a dead guy in front of me!" Jaune exclaimed, fighting a growing sense of queasiness as he realized Yang was feeling up a corpse.

"So? Neither of us knew him, and by the looks of it he was the bandit who stole Lucan's claw." Yang replied casually, pulling off a golden claw and a journal from the former Arvel the Swift. "Huh, not bad, his group might have had a bounty on them as well..."

"He was still a person..." Jaune murmured, shocked by her callousness.

"If you're this torn up by one wasted life, how'd you get through the bandits?" Yang asked, confused.

"I didn't! When I got here, they'd already been overrun by those giant rats... it was a horrible sight, and the smell..."

Yang looked at him, and nodded in understanding (and mentally knocking him back below "Fighters Guild Bouncer"). She'd seen that faraway vacant look before, and as she approached him, she knelt down, and asked: "You've never seen something like this before, have you, Vomit Boy?"

"Never." Jaune affirmed, shaking his head. "I've heard some stories, of settlements overrun by hordes of Grimm, but they're not common, in my time, where I come from..."

"Look, Jaune... your world sounds peaceful, minus the Grimm of course." Yang began, rubbing his back gently. "But this is Tamriel, and _this_ in Skyrim. It is a harsh land..."

"Oh, Oum... I really am in another world, aren't I..." Jaune moaned, tears welling up in his blank eyes, and with a retch he continued: "I'm never going to see my family or my friends again! I don't belong here! I just wanted to be a hero!"

"... you can still be a hero, you know. Even if it's Skyrim and not Remnant, the people still need help." Yang consoled him. It may not have been what he wanted to hear, she knew, not being told that everything would be alright and he'd never have to kill again, but he needed to hear _this_ , if he wanted to survive.

"How? I've never killed before!"

"You've got to get used to it, if you want to help people here." Yang replied matter-of-factly. She knew she was coming across as harsh, but she needed to get the Dragonstone to Farengar, preferably before the next dragon attack, if only so they could devise decent countermeasures for the dragons, and she could be safely on her way to fulfil her true goal in Skyrim. "Banditry's been a growing problem for years, between the Great War, and the Civil War. And it's only going to get worse, if the dragon attacks continue."

"How do I get used to this?! They were people too! I just... I just can't help but think about the lives lost..." Jaune admitted.

"Then focus on something else. Focus on the fact that they _chose_ to become bandits. Focus on the fact they _chose_ to steal from Lucan and camp here. Focus on the fact that Arvel chose to run from you when you freed him." Yang advised. "Remember, in the heat of the moment, nothing matters but kill or be killed. When your blades are drawn, your opponent isn't going to worry about your life story, and you can't waste time thinking about his. They wouldn't have hesitated to kill you if they could, Jaune. And so you can't hesitate in ending them. Why waste time afterwards contemplating the inevitable?"

"Like dealing with the Grimm, I suppose..." Jaune murmured, having a frame of reference to work with. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and tried to replace the image of dead bodies with Grimm. It didn't work, but it did momentarily distract him, allowing him to collect himself further.

As far as Jaune knew, he was stuck in this strange and barbaric land.

He didn't know how he'd gotten here, or why he'd been sent here.

But he was still Jaune Arc (as far as he knew). He'd promised to repay his debt to Yang. He'd promised to help Lucan and Camilla get their golden claw back. And he was in a position where he could still help the people of Skyrim, even if it was just helping Yang Xiao-Long get some information about the dragons to the local governor.

And an Arc never goes back on his word.

He wasn't fully renewed as he got to his feet, after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still managed a small smile for Yang as he answered: "You're right... I don't know if I'll ever get used to killing people, but even if it's a different world, even if the aid they need is different, people still need help."

"See? Now you're getting it." Yang smirked, lightly punching him in the shoulder. "Now get up, we've got a job to do."

"You sounded like you were speaking from experience, though, and that was... oddly nice of you." Jaune noted, even as he pointed to the pressure plate stone he'd seen Arvel step on, and the pair side-stepped it. "By the way, why are you here? Done with delivering the blacksmith's message to the Jarl already?"

"Can't have you breaking down on me just yet, Vomit Boy, not while you owe me." Yang sniped back lightly, shrugging, not wanting to admit she'd started enjoying his company. They'd been journeying together for less than a day, but she found his idealism refreshingly earnest; he reminded her of some of the younger children at the orphanage she'd used to play with, before they got a taste of cruel reality. "And the reason I'm here is because the Jarl's court wizard says there's a stone tablet here that could hold some information. Might be useful in telling them what they're dealing with. As for experience... the city I grew up in was not a nice one. Between the skooma riots, the Dark Brotherhood, and the Thieves Guild... I, and many of the children at Signal... we had to learn to cope quickly."

"... thanks, Yang." Jaune murmured, not trusting himself to say anything more lest he shove his foot in his mouth.

"I'll just add it to your tab." Yang shot him a toothy grin, and he couldn't help but remember Ruby's sister when she was about to make an awful pun. Fortunately for him, this Yang had a much more subdued sense of humor, and she merely said: "Now come on. We've made more than enough of a ruckus to wake the dead."

**-ROAD TO WHITERUN, TWO HOURS LATER-**

"You sure you okay, Yang?" Jaune concernedly asked once again, as they continued their journey to Whiterun from Riverwood. "We could've just stayed the night, you know. Lucan and Camilla even offered us a cot."

"You mean, Camilla offered _you_ a cot, Lover Boy." Yang snapped, even as she staggered slightly into her follower. She was all for using sexual appeal to get what she wanted, sure, but Camilla's actions had been so direct and overt that even Lucan had noticed. She'd received a polite and frank "thank you for getting my claw back, here's the coin I promised, now please get your friend out of my shop before my sister does something I'll make him regret", and the embarrassment-by-proxy had made her irritable.

"... what do you mean?" Jaune asked, genuinely confused. "She only took me aside because she said she wanted to express her gratitude-"

"You _cannot_ be serious." Yang interrupted, looking up at him, studying his face for any sign of teasing, humor, or deception. "... you're not joking, are you?"

"Nope."

"Ever had a girlfriend, Lover Boy?"

"Nope. Why?" Jaune had no idea where Yang was going with this, but saw no harm in answering.

"... how old are you?"

"I would be turning 18 this year, I guess?" Jaune answered, still unsure as to what Yang was getting at.

"... any older siblings?"

"Yeah, I've got seven older sisters."

Yang groaned, face buried in her palm, and with a sigh she answered: "Suddenly, everything makes sense. You really are that blind."

"Hey, I'm not blind!" Jaune protested, pouting, and Yang laughed at his expression, reminded of a petulant young child. Then she coughed, and stumbled again. Immediately, he propped her up, looking concerned.

"Are you sure you're-"

"Jaune, for the thousandth time, I'm fine. The big draugr in front of the Word Wall didn't even touch me" She repeated, exasperated by his continuous concern. She appreciated his concern, to be sure, but she was used to taking care of herself. And she wasn't lying; the big draugr with the greatsword would've given her lots of trouble if she'd been by herself, with only her fists against its tough armor, but Jaune had been able to deflect and parry all of its blows, allowing her to focus on snapping its joints and crippling it for a final decisive killing blow.

"That's not what I meant..." Jaune frowned. He knew he was acting like an overprotective mother (from personal experience), but over a semester as a Team Leader, faced with a girl who reminded him of his best friend's sister, who had saved his life and tried to help him adjust to this new world? He couldn't help but be worried. "I mean that weird light thing, that flowed out of the wall and into you."

"That was just the word for force in the old dragon language, _Fus_." Yang absently replied.

"... how do you know that?"

"... I don't know." Yang admitted, pausing. How did she know that? She'd just thought about the scratches on the wall, and she'd suddenly known the word. It'd been like reading a line from a book; you just _knew_ what it said, or you couldn't read. But she couldn't read the ancient dragon language! As far as she knew, perhaps only scholars and the Greybeards still knew it. "I just knew it, somehow..."

"... are there any doctors in the town?"

"Doctors?"

"You know, people who treat sicknesses and wounds?"

"You mean healers? I think I'd be better off asking the Jarl's court wizard; the healers at the temple are probably busy with other people." Yang said, remembering the saber cats and bears she'd spied around the wilds outside the walls.

Jaune's ears, however, perked up at the mention of "wizard" and "healers"; remembering some of the draugr he'd fought (and the dimly-glowing greatsword he was carrying), he commented: "Oh, right, Skyrim has magic... that'll take some getting used to..."

"Doesn't Remnant?" Yang asked.

"Not that I know of..." Jaune commented, not knowing the true nature of Ozpin and Salem, or Cinder Fall's "Semblance" actually being the powers of the Fall Maiden.

"Then what about Aura? And... Semblances, was it?" Yang pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Ah, those aren't magic, they're more like... superpowers, I guess?" Jaune defended weakly.

"What's the difference?"

"... you know, now that I think about it, I'm really not sure. I guess it's like, Aura and Semblances are unique to each individual, while magic's something that can be used by different people in the same way, and taught and passed on?" Jaune tried explaining, though it sounded hollow to himself, especially when he considered the Aura Transfer Machine Ozpin had stuck Pyrrha in. "I mean, I guess there's family Semblances and unique magics, but- is that a fire?"

Yang followed his finger, looking away from the gate they'd been about to enter, and peered towards the west. Indeed, a few hundred metres away, the darkening light sky was illuminated by a warm orange glow. She squinted, trying to note any further details, but the distance was too great for her to make out anything more specific than it's rough shape. Before she could reply, though, the sound of heavy footsteps interrupted her, and as the pair looked back towards the gate they saw a squad of soldiers rushing out, led by a leather-armored Dunmer, who barked: "Get out of the way! We're here to deal with the- oh, it's you, mercenary."

"The Jarl's Housecarl." Yang nodded towards Irileth in recognition. "What's going on? Why are you in such a rush?"

Irileth didn't slow her pace, but as she ran past the pair she called back: "Come on! There's an emergency!"

"What about the Dragonstone?!" Yang shouted back, even as the pair fell in line behind the guards as they rushed towards the burning tower.

"There's no time! A dragon is attacking the Western Watchtower! And you survived Helgen, so you have more experience with dragons then anyone else here!"

Yang felt a chill run up her spine at Irileth's words; the trust was flattering, to be sure, but she'd survived Helgen mostly by running and dodging the dragon, not trying to fight it without a proper weapon! But there was no time to correct the Housecarl's misunderstanding. Instead, she nodded solemnly at Irileth and her men, before whispering to Jaune: "Vomit Boy, you said you fought a dragon before..."

Jaune blanched, as he realized what Yang was getting at, and he furiously whispered back: "You cannot be serious! That was in Remnant! I don't know the first thing about dragons here!"

"They're all big flying fire-breathing lizards, aren't they?"

"The one in Remnant didn't breathe fire!"

"It's all the same principle, isn't it?"

"Even if that were true, just to remind you, Yang... I _died_ fighting the Grimm Dragon! That's kind of _how I got here_ , remember?"

Yang paled, as she finally processed his words, and she murmured: "By Molag Bal's unholy ballsack, we're screwed. We're going to die... and I'm still _sober_."

Jaune was fortunately spared from having to answer by Irileth barking: "We're here! No signs of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he's been here. I know it looks bad, but we've got to figure out what happened. And if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere. Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we're dealing with."

Looking at the half-collapsed burning stone tower and the piles of rubble that surrounded the tower, Yang privately felt that they were more likely to find burnt bodies than survivors (like Helgen), but wisely kept that opinion to herself. She knew full well how strong the bonds of shared service (and suffering) could be, and at any rate she was spared from having to admit she was wrong when, as Irileth's men got closer to the tower, a survivor came out, waving them away, shouting: "No! Get back! It's still here somewhere! Hroki and Tor just got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!"

"Guardsman! What happened here? Where's this dragon? Quickly now!" Irileth ordered authoritatively, and the discipline drilled into him reasserted itself over his panic.

Unfortunately, before he could answer, a loud roar echoed above them, followed by the sound of powerful wings beating the quiet night air.

"Kynareth save us, here he comes again..." The survivor murmured, gripping an amulet tightly, even as Irileth's party began looking wildly above them.

Jaune, having studied in Beacon, had needed to learn to spot the pitch-black bodies of Nevermore and Griffons against the dark night sky of Remnant. Skyrim, with its two moons and a sky full of stars undimmed by light pollution, was hardly a challenge, and he yelled out: "Flier, coming in from the mountains!"

"Here he comes! Find cover and make every arrow count!" Irileth barked out her commands, already drawing an arrow from her quiver as she looked towards the southern mountains, and her men scattered behind the larger pieces of rubble at her voice. Jaune and Yang followed suit, finding the advice sound as they ran for a nearby ditch, but the traumatized survivor shook, unable to move. Before anyone could intervene to try and help him, a dark shadow dove down upon him, kicking up gusts of wind and dust as it drew closer to the ground. Then the guard was gone, as the large figure swooped back up into the clouds.

The guards simply stared, dumbstruck, trying to process that something so large could move so quickly.

Then a sword fell from the sky, clanging loudly against the rocks.

With that, arrows started flying wildly into the sky, and confused voices screamed incoherently.

Jaune froze, watching the scene; all he could see from the chaos was Amity Colosseum, when the White Fang had interrupted, after Pyrrha had... dismantled Penny. Irileth yelled, trying to restore order among her men, but another roar and the beating of wings drowned out her words.

Then he saw Yang looking at the chaos with a stiff expression, and he forced himself to focus. He was... had been... a team leader! This was no time to choke, not when people were depending on him! Ruby would never have frozen like that!

Yang, meanwhile, studied the panicking men around her, and couldn't help but remember the futile efforts of the archers she'd seen at Helgen, before they'd been turned to ash. At least the cover of night was helping to conceal them from the dragon as much as it concealed the dragon from them (or so she hoped; she didn't know how good a dragon could see in the dark), but at the rate they were going they'd be out of arrows long before they came close to hitting the dragon, let alone actually bringing it down. Not for the first time, she wished she'd been able to grab a proper weapon; all she had was a stone tablet and her bare fists! She turned to Jaune, to ask if he had any plans, only to find an empty spot next to her.

Jaune, meanwhile, had sprinted up from the ditch to a nearby knoll, and began slamming his sword against his shield as he shouted at the dragon like he was trying to get a syrup-overdosed Nora's attention. He had no idea if the dragon was intelligent enough to recognize the challenge, but at the very least, he needed to distract it from the archers around, give them time to try and rally.

A roar sounded to his right, and he spun, never ceasing in the beating of his shield. There, above the tower, a dark winged figure dove towards him. He ceased his unintelligible roaring, and instead yelled: "The tower! It's above the tower!"

The guards, to their credit, allowed their training to reassert itself now that they had a target to shoot at, and even as the dragon descended most of the arrows found their mark.

Little of it mattered. The dragon's scales were too tough, and it's hide meant to protect it from the fang of other dragons; the steel arrows from the oaken bows that was standard issue to the guard weren't sharp enough, and weren't fired with enough force. Of the arrows that hit the dragon, most merely bounced of it's scales, while a lucky few hit the gaps between them, but were unable to penetrate deep enough into it's thick hide to draw blood.

Little was not the same as none, however. Irileth had an enchanted bow of elven make, and the steel arrowhead crackled with lightning as she fired at the dragon. She'd been trained by the Morag Tong, centuries ago, and had felled her fair share of massive beasts in her day. She'd aimed for it's eye, and the arrogant beast had flown straight, confident in its defenses.

The sparks-infused missile hit true, burying itself in its eye, and the dragon roared in pain, half-blind, distracted by the arrow just as it had been about to correct it's course so that it could grab the defiant mortal with it's talons.

Jaune tried to dive out of the way as ten tonnes of flesh, bone, scale, and attitude slammed into the ground at terminal velocity, but was sent flying off the hill by the impact. Fortunately, between his Aura and Beacon's Initiation, he'd had ample time to develop a proper landing strategy, and easily adjusted so that he landed in a roll, bleeding off momentum.

The guards began gathering around the impact site, murmuring in awestruck tones. Irileth was the first to speak: "Let's make sure that overgrown lizard is really dead. Damned good shooting, boys!"

A sonorous war cry split the night in response, and the dust around the hole was swept away in an instant as the dragon slammed it's tail into the ground with all it's strength.

"Shoot it!" Irileth yelled, perhaps unnecessarily, but the dragon elected to ignore the pinpricks, and instead looked upon the mortal who challenged it. There was something different about this mortal, his second sight revealed as much, but it was something he hadn't seen in all the millennia he'd been in Tamriel. Whatever he was, he at least had courage and cunning, and that was something Mirmulnir could respect, as it rumled: "You are brave. _Balaan hokoron_. Your defeat brings me honor."

Jaune stared back at the dragon unflinchingly. Not out of bravery, though, but because he was scared stiff. He had no idea what the dragon had said, but the fact that the dragon was capable of speech implied thought. Intelligence. He'd been relying on using his wits to overcome its superior strength, but if it could think, then he had no more aces up his sleeve.

Even as the earth shook with every step it took closer to him, all he could manage was to defiantly stand his ground.

Even as it grew close enough that he could smell the blood off of it, make out the dark brown coloration in the dark, like dried blood, he was incapable of backing down.

The dragon's head shot forward towards him, jaws opened wide, ready to bite into him and rip him apart.

The memory of an Ursa's paw, and Forever Fall, came to him. Training drilled into him until it had almost become instinct asserted itself.

He took a step forward as his body lowered itself into a crouch, and he began spinning his body to the side, shield gripped tightly and angled upwards between him and the dragon.

The dragon's snout was parried away from Jaune by the sheath-shield of Crocea Mors, unable to penetrate the otherworldly Aura-infused metal, most of the weight behind it's blow deflected away. There was still a significant amount of force behind the blow, of course, but Jaune's footing was steady, and while he bent he didn't buckle under it. Taking advantage of the opening, he followed through with his spin, swinging the sword in a wide arc at the dragon as he did so.

The ancient Nordic metal succeeded where steel arrows had failed, and the dragon roared in pain and fury as he sliced into it's neck. It was not a deep cut, certainly not a mortal blow, but first blood between the pair had gone to Jaune.

Before Jaune could capitalize any further on his advantage, however, the roar suddenly became a gout of fire, one that turned towards Jaune as the dragon refocused his efforts on him. Jaune quickly crouched behind his shield, but the sheer force of the dragon's breath pushed him back, gouging small furrows in the dirt as he fought to maintain his footing.

After what seemed like an eternity, the fire finally died down, and Jaune peered over his shield, exhausted from the exertion, surrounded by charred earth. Tired, but unbowed, unbeaten, unbroken. The dragon took another step towards him, and he readied his sword once more, roaring in defiance even as it reared up to snap at him again.

A figure rushed the dragon from the side, using the stuck arrows as handholds, and Jaune watched in awe as Yang used her momentum from climbing to leap unto it's head like an oversized monkey (a thought he swore he'd keep private to his _next_ dying breath, which might not have been much further in the future if he thought about it). As she landed on it's snout, staggering it slightly from the impact, she gripped hold of a ridge on it's head with one hand, and with the other drew a sword from between her teeth, the fallen sword of the ex-survivor. She cackled maniacally, wild with bloodlust, as she began hacking and slashing at it's snout and head with the sword, even as it tried to snap at her. Blood dripped from the dragon's wounds, and for a moment, Jaune believed that Yang would slay dragon.

Then the sword, weakened from the impact of falling from the sky unto hard rocks, broke as she swung it a final time at the dragon's eye.

The dragon wasted no time in shaking it's head furiously, loosening Yang's grip, before it dislodged her with a sharp snap, sending her flying off it's head.

Yang bounced twice, before cracking a decently-sized chunk of rubble with her back.

" _Brit grah_. I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!" Mirmulnir congratulated it's foes earnestly, not having faced such tenacity for many centuries. Then he reared back, before letting loose a jet of fire at the long-haired blonde.

Yang, dazed, injured, saw the fire approaching her, but found herself unable to move out of the way, and so she did the only thing she could do; she closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, hoping that it wouldn't hurt.

Five seconds later, when the expected heat and pain hadn't come (and she belatedly realized her heart was still beating), Yang slowly opened her eyes, wondering if the dragon had somehow missed.

A strong white glow almost blinded her, imposed between her prone figure and the incoming flames, deflecting them around her.

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the bright light, she made out a humanoid figure in the center of the glow, kneeling, pressing a heater shield against the incoming jet of flames.

Jaune, meanwhile, sighed with relief, both at the realization that Yang was still alive, and that he'd made it to her in time. Then he looked away from her and towards the dragon, and as the fire ceased, he charged forwards, channeling his Aura into the sword as he swung it.

Frost suddenly coated the blade as it bit into the dragon's snout, and where the enchanted sword came into contact with the dragon frost rapidly formed, biting into it's flesh and making it brittle. The dragon howled in pain and shock, before Jaune stabbed at the shallow cut he'd made in it's neck. Ice blossomed from the deep within the neck wound, and the dragon choked as it's throat was blocked by blood and ice. Then he slashed a final time, cutting through sinew and hide, and the dragon died as it's neck was ripped open.

Jaune merely stared at his sword in shock, not having known the blade was capable of... well... _any_ of that. He'd seen the big draugr swing it a few times, but it had only left a small coating of frost where it had struck, not... well... _that_. Then he looked back at Yang, and his sword fell to the floor as he rushed to her side.

Yang, for her part, fought to breathe, as she stared with grim satisfaction at the dragon's corpse. Vomit Boy... no, Jaune Arc of Remnant, hadn't let her down in the end. When it came to kill or be killed, he'd proven himself a killer. Songs of her would be forever sung, even if only as part of his saga. Strangely enough, she could live with that. She coughed, reflecting that that had been a poor choice of words. Then she found herself staring at his concerned features, and she saw his lips moving, but she couldn't make his words out.

Still, she struggled to speak, to let him know that she didn't even feel pain, just a bit of cold. To ask him to find out what had happened to Raven Branwen, and to get word of both her and Raven's fate back to Taiyang, in Bravil, but then a white light engulfed her.

Jaune, meanwhile, desperately tried to feel for a pulse, set her bones straight, think of _anything_ he could do for wounds this serious. Unfortunately, he'd only learned basic field aid so far, and most of the protocols for severe injuries boiled down to "call a Bullhead and start praying". He grew desperate, repeating "no" as he felt her breathing go shallow, but he refused to give up as he laid her against the floor.

All his life, he'd wanted to be a hero, to help those in need, to _save_ people.

But now, when faced with a dying person, a person who'd _saved his life_ , tried to teach him how to survive in a new world he'd been unprepared for, he'd just fail her, let her die?

_Preposterous._

He didn't know what he could do, but he refused to simply give up. Dimly, he heard the guards around him speaking to him, but he ignored them, focusing on his friend.

He _hadn't_ failed Pyrrha.

He _hadn't_ failed Ruby.

He _wouldn't_ fail Yang.

Not now.

Blocking out all distractions, he reached inwards desperately, feeling for his Aura, and tried channeling it into her body like he had done with his sword.

And as the onlooking guards watched in awe, a faint shimmering sound could be heard, and a glowing white aura began enveloping Yang's body.

Behind them, forgotten by the onlookers, the dragon's body began burning up. As the flesh dissolved away from it, a multi-hued fiery glow began rushing out of the dragon's skeleton and towards Yang, before flowing into her along with Jaune's Aura.

Yang's eyes shot open and she gasped, as her wounds were healed by the Aura Jaune channeled into her while her dormant and weakening spirit was jump-started by both Jaune's soul energy and Mirmulnir's soul. Power welled deep within her, from a source she couldn't name, and for some odd reason she instinctively felt like Shouting, letting loose a victorious Shout to celebrate her triumph.

Jaune looked at her expectantly as she opened her mouth.

Unfortunately, while her newly-awakened dragon soul _instinctively_ knew how to Shout any Word she knew... _intellectually_ , she'd only encountered and learned _one_ Word so far.

To the amazement of the onlookers, she Shouted: " ** _FUS!_** "

An unprepared Jaune screamed shrilly as he was sent flying away.


	6. Dragonslayers

"Thank Oum I went through Initiation at Beacon Academy..." Jaune groaned with a pout as he dusted himself off, pouting at his stunned friend as he did so. To her credit, Yang did have the decency to look sheepish at his words, and as she looked away with a flush he continued: "So, how'd you do that, anyway?"

"I don't know... I've never done that before..." Yang murmured in response, touching her throat in shock. It felt slightly raw, but she had suddenly let loose a primal shout with enough force to send a rather tall and muscular man flying a few dozen feet straight up, after almost dying to a dragon, so she felt like the ache was understandable. And speaking of almost dying...

"And what about you? How did _you_ do _that_?" Yang countered, easily ignoring the pain. It was miniscule in comparison to her spine almost breaking, and definitely paled compared to the sensation of that warm, comforting light. "I thought you said your world doesn't have magic?"

"That wasn't magic... that was me just transferring my Aura to you..." Jaune defended, though his voice trailed away as he noticed the guards they'd run into had drawn closer. Presumably, they'd finally shaken the ringing from their ears and picked their jaws off the floor (or found their nerve; given the utter absurdity of that fight, Jaune could empathize).

Finally, one spoke, addressing Yang: "By the gods, I can't believe it! That was Shouting, what you just did! Must be. You're... Dragonborn..."

"Dragonborn? What do you mean?" Jaune spoke up before Yang could ask the guard to repeat his unbelievable words. The guard looked him up and down with pity, and he winced and quickly added: "I'm not really from around here, so..."

"Ah, that would explain it." The guard nodded in understanding. "It's a local legend. In the very oldest tales, back when there still were dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power."

Yang and Jaune peered back to where the dragon had died, and their eyes widened at the sight of the smoldering bare skeleton. They'd been occupied with dying and preventing their friend from dying respectively, and hadn't actually paid attention to it after it had fallen. Yang recalled the sudden instincts to roar in victory, and the Word that she had Shouted that had sent her friend flying away, and as the guards began loudly discussing stories of the Dragonborn, Yang excitedly turned to Jaune, and exclaimed: "Jaune! This is so awesome! I'm _the_ legendary Dragonborn! Do you know what this means?"

"Yeah, it's so cool... like something out of a comic book..." Jaune's voice trailed away uncomfortably.

Yang picked up on his hesitation, and asked: "What's wrong?"

"Yang, don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you, but doesn't this seem all to convenient? You coincidentally arrive in Skyrim at the same time as the dragon attacks start, the first in millennia, and you get revealed to be a natural dragon slayer?"

"Well, yes? The gods have probably gifted me because there's a crisis coming, and someone needs to deal with it." Yang said matter-of-factly, recalling the stories of the Hero of Kvatch and the Eternal Champion, of individuals blessed by the Divines stepping forward in times of upheaval, and single-handedly changing the course of destiny. It certainly held appeal to her, the thought that she had been chosen for greatness by the Divines.

"And you don't see any problem with that?" Jaune, however, could only recall Pyrrha, and especially the last conversation they had, before the attack.

How she'd actually blown up at him, how the girl who'd told him to stop keeping things to himself and rely more on his team had been keeping things to herself, refusing to rely on her partner. Of the distress on her face, the way her mask of polite professionalism had slipped, as she'd been torn between what she felt she _needed_ to do, and what she actually _wanted_ to do.

It was all he could do, to keep his tone merely skeptical.

"With being a living legend? Nope." Yang shrugged, failing to see his point. "I mean, we handled ourselves pretty well against the dragon this time, didn't we?"

"... Yang, you almost died. We almost died! _And_ we had a squad of soldiers led by the king's _personal bodyguard_ backing us up!" Jaune hissed back, shocked by her callousness. "You _would_ have died, and you want to do that again?!"

"... this is Tamriel, Vomit Boy. Death is just a part of everyday life." Yang pointed out, matter-of-factly, before a feral grin came over her fact, and she added: "Besides, can you deny that was the most exciting fight you've ever been in?"

"... I certainly did better than the last time I fought a dragon..." Jaune grudgingly admitted, conceding the point. "But still..."

Yang smirked, knowing she had him, and continued: "Now that we've fought back, we know they _can_ be killed. And more importantly, we know _how_ they can be killed. Next time we do this, it'll go very differently. And besides, if things ever go as badly as they did this time, you can just heal me back up!"

"Yang, Aura's not so simple..." Jaune explained. "I have a limited amount, and it's also used to protect me and heal me! Besides, I didn't even know I could transfer Aura to someone like that..."

"Well, now you know." Yang replied smugly. Then a thought came over her, and she eagerly asked: "Does this mean I have Aura now, too?"

"... I doubt it." Jaune said, unwilling to admit that he knew next to nothing about Aura, having only learnt about it that very year. "I don't know how to unlock Aura, and if you did, it'd have started healing you as soon as it was active. It was just me lending my Aura to you to do Aura... things."

Yang cursed quietly under her breath. The sensation of warmth and comfort gently engulfing her and running through her had been almost addictive, not to mention it's obvious abilities. Still, though, as Dragonborn she was already blessed by the Divines, and she merely shrugged and continued: "Well, it is what is is. Anyway, Vomit Boy, you said you wanted to be a hero, too. This is what heroes do, isn't it? Risk their lives in glorious combat, taking down giant monsters, in the name of protecting the land?"

Jaune looked away, unable to argue. After all, that _was_ what Huntsmen and Huntresses did everyday (granted, dragons were a tad bit more dangerous than Ursa), and _he'd_ been more reckless when he'd faked his way into Beacon. Yang would've probably handled herself a lot better if she'd actually gotten a proper weapon, rather than the attack happening as they'd been about to enter the town. But still, there was no way he was going to simply roll over, and it was with a show of reluctance that he murmured: "Well, I guess I do still owe you my life after Helgen, so it's not like I can just walk away."

Yang's response died in her throat, as she processed his last words. Intellectually, she knew he would not simply abandon her; he was far too naive, idealistic, and caring for that. She also knew that, barring his abilities, she had no real reason to actually _want_ him around. She barely knew him, after all, having only met him earlier that day, and was merely looking at him like she did some of the younger children in Signal that she helped take care of. Beyond their mutual saving of each other's lives, they hardly had anything approaching a bond.

But he _had_ saved her life. And she _did_ , inexplicably, enjoy his company. The idea of him simply walking out on her like her mother made her stomach turn, though she couldn't explain why.

Jaune, fortunately, missed her expression as he continued with a teasing smile: "Besides, me leaving you to fight dragons by yourself would be like me letting you jump off a cliff or something. No way I could do that- oh, it looks like someone's coming."

"That was the hairiest fight I've ever been in, and I've been in more than a few." Irileth admitted, as she gave up on following her men's Dragonborn discussion, and instead moved to address the heroes of the hour. "I don't know about this Dragonborn business, but I'm sure glad you two were with us. You better get back to Whiterun right away. Jarl Balgruuf will want to know what happened here, and Farengar will want his stone. I'm taking command here for the moment. By the way... mercenary, who's your friend here?"

Jaune and Yang exchanged a quick look. While he didn't _need_ to keep his origins a secret (if he did, publicly fighting a dragon and brazenly using Aura would have been near the top of the list of things to avoid), he and Yang had agreed that it would probably have been best to not go around announcing to all of Skyrim that he'd come from another world. Instead, he began: "I'm... I was just a hunter-in-training..."

"And he's a fellow survivor of Helgen." Yang added helpfully. "He was injured by the dragon attack, and I helped him get out."

Irileth raised an eyebrow at their words, but decided against saying anything. Sure, it was unlikely that a mere hunter would have known a healing spell more powerful than the temples, or been able to conjure a ward that could withstand the full fury of a dragon's breath, and she had been trained to be paranoid, having dealt with her fair share of assassinations (from both ends), but she could understand the need for secrets. And, if they didn't endanger her Jarl, she could even tolerate them. So, shaking her head, she replied: "I see... well, mercenary, that explains why you brought him along. I'd have been very concerned if you'd brought any civilian to fight a dragon, but- by the Nerevarine, do you hear that?"

Thunder cracked as voices rolled out from the mountain, shaking the very world in the wake of its mere echoes as they roared as one: " _ **DOVAHKIIN!**_ "

"... you'd better get back to town quickly." Irileth spoke first, sheathing the sword she'd instinctively drawn at the noise, before turning around to yell at her men who were trying to drag the dragon's skeleton onto the road

"... any idea what _that_ was?" Jaune whispered to Yang, even as he helped her up and supported her as they slowly made their way back to town.

"Not really... this is also the first time I've been in Skyrim." Yang pointed out, leaning against him perhaps slightly more than was strictly necessary. "It's probably just another thing we should ask the Jarl, once we've reported back to him."

"You sure you don't want to rest first? I can take the rock to the court wizard for you." Jaune politely offered.

"... and leave you to handle Skyrim's high society?" Yang asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"..." Jaune blanched, as he considered the idea further.

"Vomit Boy, you've been here for all of a day. The Jarl's a nice guy, but you don't know any of our customs, and I've got no way to prove we're affiliated without me vouching for you in person." Yang pressed further, before adding with a laugh: "I'd rather not have you arrested for impersonation, fraud, or disrespecting the Jarl."

Jaune was about to weakly retort, as they reached the walls, but the words died in his throat as he spotted the bright orange glow. For a moment, he though there'd been another dragon attack, another fire burning, but a closer look revealed them to be torches. Lots of torches.

Yang looked around, seeing the crowd around them watching them. There were guards, farmers, men, women, and children. By the looks of it, half the city had been at the walls, watching the fight with bated breath. When Jaune didn't react, didn't move even a muscle, she quietly sighed, before raising her fist triumphantly.

The roar of cheers deafened the pair, and Jaune flinched slightly. Yang laughed as she felt him move, and as she lightly punched him in the side, she warmly added: "Besides, the crowds cheering your name in victory? There's no way I'd go through all that trouble and miss _this_ part of being a hero."

As the mob moved in closer, and Jaune made out the looks of joy and relief on the townspeople's faces as it seemed everyone tried to give them a pat on the back, he quietly admitted: "Okay, maybe you've got a point."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back, this time with a shorter chapter. I really don't have specified or recommended word lengths for these things; I just write til I feel like it's a good stopping point.
> 
> Originally, I wrote the initial scene so that Jaune would be the naive wide-eyed idealist about the whole Dragonborn thing, while Yang was the skeptic. Since, in general, that is their personalities. But as I fleshed out the scene, I ended up writing and rewriting different arguments and talking points, trying to figure out arguments that fit the characters, until eventually revising it to it's current iteration (and deleting maybe a few thousand words).
> 
> After all, Yang's the Nord who's more than happy to be an awesome badass, and would probably rise to any challenge. Sure, in canon she gets depressed about losing in arm after Volume 3, but that's a lasting consequence of a reckless action that's compounded by bestie Blakey abandoning her, Weiss getting taken away from them, and Ruby going into a coma for an unspecified amount of time. In contrast, the lasting consequence of this battle is an awesome superpower while watching her new companion prove himself.
> 
> Sure, she's pragmatic enough to figure out that the gods have a task for her (there's no such thing as a free lunch and all), but hey, someone was going to have to deal with the dragons eventually, and in Skyrim Nords are big on the idea of honor; what better honor than being marked by the Divines for a greater task? May as well have her be the one who claims the fame and fortune of it (as well as the fun), especially since she's apparently got a super-strong healer who owes her a life debt. Besides, fame and power opens up doors that can help her find out about her mother, and being Dragonborn would be the biggest snub at her egg donor who was always so obsessed with strength.
> 
> Jaune, by contrast, while being far more idealistic about stuff like killing and helping people, strikes me as the kind who'd be very skeptical of stuff like fate and destiny. Not least because Remnant of his time only deals with stuff like gods as an abstract concept, but most importantly, he'd have by then witnessed the toll the argument between destiny and desire firsthand with Pyrrha, who wanted to stay with Team JNPR as herself but felt compelled by duty and destiny to accept Ozpin's offer to take Amber's Aura, irregardless of it's potential effects on her, and become the new Fall Maiden, despite coming to Beacon to escape the weight of being the Invincible Girl. Compound with the fact that Jaune died intervening in Pyrrha's destiny, and Jaune might be a bit cynical and bitter when it comes to the whole "fate and destiny" shtick, which is how the conversation presented above became written.
> 
> Someone in the comments mentioned that Ruby would probably have frozen as well, fighting against Mirmulnir, and I'd have to agree. She took a while to figure out a strategy to deal with the Nevermore during Initiation, after all, and even when Team RNJR was formed Jaune was still the general strategist of the group. But the thought was from Jaune's perspective, and during this part of the story Jaune was putting himself down whenever he compared himself to his friends. Imagine what his mental image must have been of Ruby, his first friend; the prodigy from Signal, the youngest person to ever attend Beacon Academy, who built her own weapon, and leads Team RWBY, one of the top in the year. She's taken down a Nevermore, fought Roman Torchwick thrice, stopped the White Fang at the docks, and helped out greatly at the Breach. Her main flaws mostly revolve around social awkwardness, not her skill in battle. Add those facts to a dash of self-deprecation and a semester of being the weakest and one can easily imagine how a mental image gets inflated.
> 
> One of the weird things I found about Skyrim was that, especially in Whiterun, the NPCs really don't mention the whole dragon attack that much, especially when one was burning down the watchtower less than a mile from the walls. Also, these are Nords, excited for battle and bloodshed and violence. Look at how they cheer on a barfight; they'd be crowding the walls to watch their honored guards defending them from a dragon! Hence why I added the cheering mob. It was also a good way for me to contrast the pair; Yang looks for glory and notes them cheering her name, while Jaune notices the happiness of the crowd, the relief they feel at being saved.


	7. Actions May Have Unexpected Side-Effects

"So, should I start referring to you as "my lady?" Or would you prefer "lord"?" Jaune teased, prodding at the shell-shocked blonde's shoulder once the doors of Dragonsreach were firmly closed behind them, and they were safely out of earshot.

"Keep it up and I _will_ name you my Court Jester, Vomit Boy." Yang shot back easily, the familiarity of their joking helping her regain some of her usual composure. "Your duties shall include throwing up on shoes of people who displease me."

"Wow, you haven't even been a noble for an hour and you're already bossing a lowly peasant around!" Jaune remarked, as she worked the unfamiliar straps of her new axe, given to her as a symbol of her new office, her new status.

Yang sighed in exasperation, and as they made their way down the stairs she explained: "I'm a _Thane_ , Vomit Boy, not a noble. Big difference there."

"Which is?" Jaune prompted, fascinated by the impromptu lesson into Skyrim's social structure (and, more accurately, comparing how similar it was to comics he'd read on medieval times).

"The title of Thane is an honor granted to individuals of renown in a Hold by the Jarl personally." Yang paused, took note of Jaune's lack of sudden understanding, and simplified: "It's like being appointed to a position in the court, rather that being given a title that's passed through your lineage."

"Oh, I got it." Jaune nodded, finally seeing the distinction (though he felt it was a meaningless one). "Still seems like a pretty big deal, though."

"It _is_ a big deal. Which is why I really didn't expect him to name me Thane just like that." Yang admitted sheepishly. "Most stories about wandering mercenaries becoming Thanes usually involve them doing something epic, like charging headfast into a den of werewolves who'd killed the town's cattle, or something."

"Well, you did save his city from a dragon. I'd say that was pretty epic." Jaune pointed out matter-of-factly, before processing Yang's last few words. "Also, werewolves?"

"Yup." Yang drawled out as if it were obvious, then remembered that her companion wasn't a local. "You know, people that turn into large humanoid wolves? Never heard of them?"

"No, no, I've heard of them. But they're mythical creatures, that only exist in legends..." Jaune rebutted, before slapping his head in realization. "Oh, right, this world has magic and fire-breathing dragons. Why _wouldn't_ it have werewolves? I guess that thundering Shout from the mountains was pretty normal, then, too?"

"No, that's definitely a "once an age" sort of deal." Yang corrected him. "The Greybeards almost _never_ summon for anyone."

"The Greybeards... they're the guys the Jarl suggested we visit, right?" Jaune asked, having chosen to keep his distance from the Jarl and his court (and, thus, the discussion). "Who are they, anyway?"

"They are Masters of the Voice... that's another name for Shouting, by the way." Yang began elaborating. "They are an order of monks who live in seclusion High Hrothgar, at the peak of the tallest mountain in Tamriel. They rarely get involved in worldly matters, usually choosing to meditate on the Voice and it's teachings, but they are very well-respected, and when they do actually speak, everyone listens."

"That big, huh..." Jaune murmured, reminded of Glynda Goodwitch, and it was all he could do to avoid a fit of giggles at the sudden thought of Beacon's staff in brown monk robes. Then his childlike curiosity reasserted himself, and he excitedly brought the topic back: "So, werewolves... do they also forcefully transform every full moon? Are they vulnerable only to silver? And how does one become a werewolf?"

"Why? You interested?" Yang asked, raising an eyebrow at his unexpected enthusiasm.

"Oh, come on, it's not everyday I find out monsters from my childhood stories are real!" Jaune defended himself, flushing. "I just want to know how accurate the stories are!"

"Well..." Yang hesitated for a moment, before deciding to trust him. "Firstly, with regards to silver... every hunter swears by a different root or metal. So far, I have not seen any definitive texts that state their weakness to silver, though, and even if it were true, a sword made from silver would be too heavy and soft to be effective as an actual weapon.

"As for how it gets passed on... there is a chance that being bitten or scratched by a werewolf would infect you with lycanthropy, I believe, which is but one of the reasons that Cure Disease potions are recommended in every wilderness kit. Another way would be to seek out the Daedra Prince Hircine, and receive his blessing. He is the patron deity of lycanthropes and associated with the Bloodmoon, which would explain that tale about the full moon..."

"Daedra Prince?" Jaune's interjected, confused.

"They're basically gods of their own planes of Oblivion..."

"Oblivion?" Jaune's eyes were now spinning in circles.

Yang sighed, reminding herself once more that Jaune's sudden and violent arrival meant he had even less knowledge than a child. Slowly, she tried again: "Oblivion is another dimension... you know what those are, right? Good. Basically, there's another dimension, another plane of existence, with different regions... the Daedra Princes are gods of their personal realms. They've even tried invading our reality and taking over before."

"Wait, what?!" Jaune's curiosity was piqued. "What happened?"

"That was 200 years ago... basically, they tore open portals in every city across the Empire, and caused mass death and destruction in what is known as the Oblivion Crisis."

Jaune blanched at the thought. remembering the Vytal Festival. Then he remembered what she'd said earlier, and disbelievingly asked: "... and some people seek out these "Daedra" for their "blessings", like lycanthropy?"

Yang nodded, pleased with Jaune's incredulous look at the thought, then reassured him: "Well, they're rare at the best of times, and generally considered insane, so don't worry. I doubt we'll run into any daedra worshippers or werewolves any time soon..."

"Hey, you!" A gruff voice called out to them as they were about to descend from the Cloud District, and they turned to find a group of big well-armored warriors hailing them from a longhouse.

For a moment, Jaune reflexively stiffened, but Yang looked up at them and grinned, before shouting back: "Ah, so that's where you were! So, would a true warrior relish the opportunity to take on a dragon, too?"

Before Jaune could warn Yang against antagonizing the warriors (especially in her current state), the group laughed back with good cheer, and the one with a scar running down an eye spoke: "You were right, Aela... the whelp definitely has some fire in her gut!"

"We would have been there, but by the time we could confirm the rumors and grabbed our weapons, you were already battling the dragon." Another man explained.

"Don't worry, whelp. Next time a dragon shows up, we'll be there first." The woman (who Jaune had surmised was called Aela) shot back with a feral grin, which Yang returned.

Jaune looked back and forth between his companion and the group, and finally regained enough composure to ask: "You know these guys, Yang?"

""These guys"?" Aela bristled, seemingly offended, and Jaune winced.

"It's his first day in Skyrim." Yang hastily defended Jaune, before proudly explaining to him: "And I helped Aela and the Companions when they were fighting a giant outside the city, before I met the Jarl."

"An outsider, eh?" Aela asked Jaune, mollified by Yang's excuse. As Jaune nodded vigorously, she continued: "Never heard of the Companions?"

"Nope."

"An order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honor." Aela boasted loftily, even as the group around her drew themselves taller in pride. The image was ruined when she added: "And we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough.

Jaune fought to keep his face neutral at the realization that they were just glorified mercenaries. After all, it _was_ Skyrim; he really shouldn't be surprised by anything, anymore. Fortunately, Yang spoke up before he could: "So, what do the glorious Companions want with us?"

"Well, Aela wanted to ask if you've given any thought to- oof!" The third man, the one who'd initially called out to them, began explaining, but was quickly cut off by an elbow to the gut.

" _We_ were _hoping_ to invite you in for a round." Aela corrected, glaring at him. "Hear your stories about the dragon fight, share some stories of our own, maybe introduce you to Kodlak if any of us are still sober..."

Jaune was oddly reminded of one of the joint team outings he'd had with Teams JNPR and RWBY. More specifically, the looks on cafe owner's faces when they'd realized Pyrrha and Weiss were looking for a place to eat. Then again, it had gotten very dark already, and it was probably for the best that the pair got some rest before they apparently went to climb a mountain (especially given the day they'd had).

Besides, he could see Yang practically vibrating in excitement (he'd once held up a ticket to an Achieve Men concert in front of his world's Yang), and hey, what was the _worst_ that could happen with Yang and a tavern?

Jaune's optimism lasted all of three seconds. Then he entered the Mead Hall of Jorrvaskr, and walked into a fistfight between a dark-skinned elf and someone who he could describe as a discount Yang.

Behind him, the one-eyed warrior stalked forward, sternly barking like Glynda at a food fight: "Are those two at it again? Come on now, watch the footwork! Keep your balance! Watch the eyes!"

Drunken cheers rang out throughout the hall, and tankards were raised high as the two redoubled their effort to send the other to the infirmary (or the nearest dentist, which would've been a few dimensions away by Jaune's calculations). The other Companions escorting Yang and Jaune quickly rushed forward, joining in and placing bets.

Jaune turned to Yang, ready to suggest finding a more quiet inn where they might have been able to get actual rest, but before he could open his mouth Yang had suddenly dragged him forward as she rushed in, eyes sparkling enthusiastically, shouting: "Come on, Vomit Boy! We're gonna miss all the _fun_!"

"Dang it, Yang!"

**-PATCH, 2 MONTHS AFTER THE FALL-**

"Dang it, Yang!" Pyrrha hissed, disappointed in her formerly-fiery friend. "How long more are you going to just lie around?!"

Yang stared blankly past her, refusing to reply.

Pyrrha's temper flared, and she continued: "It's been two months, and you still haven't left your bed except to use the toilet!"

Silence. Blank stare.

Pyrrha changed tracks: "Did you know your sister is leaving to look for the people responsible for the Fall?"

Still silence. But Yang was glaring at her now, and her fist was clenched. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a sign to leave the building.

Pyrrha pressed on: "I guess you're too busy moping about to care about your sister."

"What do you want, _Nikos_?" Yang snarled, and for a moment Pyrrha saw a shadow of the girl who'd destroyed a bar even before Initiation. Just for a moment, then she looked away forlornly, asking: "What do you want from me?"

"I want to know if the old Yang is still in there! The girl who was over-protective of her sister, who could have actually given me a run for my money, the second-best combat student of our year!" Pyrrha answered.

"In case you haven't noticed, Nikos, things have changed." Yang snapped back angrily, waving her stump.

"Since when would that have ever stopped you?" Pyrrha snorted. "You know, I once thought we were similar. That you might have had the potential to be tournament champion. But if this is how you act on when you lose-"

"What the hell would the _Invincible Girl_ know about _losing_?!" Yang spat in Pyrrha's face.

" _Try me_."

"I didn't just lose a fight." Yang missed Pyrrha's dangerously low tone. "I lost a _part_ of me. A piece of me is _gone_. And it's _never_ coming back."

"You lost an arm, Yang." Pyrrha interrupted her fiercely. "Big deal."

"Why you-"

"There's prosthetics. Fighting styles that use legs. One-handed weapons." Pyrrha listed off to a glaring Yang, before sharply retorting: "You've still got your life, your friends, your family, your _partner_. I'd give my arm up happily if it meant Jaune was still alive!"

Yang looked away quietly, unable to answer back. Anyone with a working eye in Beacon had seen Pyrrha's crush on her leader and partner. She also knew Jaune had died, had heard the crying from the survivors of Team JNPR when they'd gotten the news, as well as Ruby's weeping when she'd been told about it. She'd heard about how Jaune had sent Pyrrha to safety while he tried to stop the dragon and the mastermind behind the attack, and then protected Ruby at the top of the tower.

"But I lost Jaune..." Pyrrha softly continued, anger ebbing away, a hollow sorrow rushing to fill the void. "He's gone, and he's never coming back. And it's all _my_ fault."

"..."

"..."

"Pyrrha? Where are you? It's time to go!" Ruby's voice called out, breaking the silence.

Pyrrha got up, not looking at Yang, not noticing the hand reaching out to her. As she left to meet Ruby and sneak out of Patch, she merely called back: "Goodbye."

"Oh, there you are, Pyrrha!" Ruby waved at Pyrrha as she finally spotted her, and as she approached her she said: "Where were you? We should get going, soon. Before my father's done making breakfast."

"You all packed, Ruby?" Pyrrha asked, forcibly injecting some levity into her tone as she changed the subject. She'd gotten to know Jaune's first friend better, in the few months she'd been in Patch, training with them, and she knew Ruby wouldn't have approved of her confronting Yang.

"Yup." Ruby drawled out, as she led Pyrrha to her room, and its open window. "Let's get going."

As Ruby Rose easily leapt out of the window, with Pyrrha following suit, her thoughts briefly went back to Beacon. Of landing strategies, of Initiation. Of her first meeting with Vomit Boy, and how he'd offered his hand to a socially-awkward stranger.

Her thoughts turned to her first friend in Beacon. How they'd discussed comics and the burden of leadership. How he'd complain about his latest failed attempt at romancing Weiss (much to her secret amusement). How they'd come up with cool team combos. Complaining about Oobleck's and Port's latest lectures. How he'd jumped in front of her at the tower, saving her from Cinder's attack. How he'd laid on the floor, unmoving, a puddle of red slowly forming on the floor...

Ruby swallowed, having learned how to fight the tears. Instead, she turned her thoughts to what they'd do next. Uncle Qrow had told her that the enemy's trail led to Haven. She and Pyrrha would meet Ren and Nora at the nearby inn, and from there they'd book passage on a ship to Anima. Then, the four would head to Haven, find Cinder, and bring her to justice. As far as she was concerned, there would be no more Falls... no more dead friends.

Behind her, Pyrrha too reflected on their journey, similar to her fellow redhead. However, while she knew Ruby and her idealism, she couldn't lie to herself.

It wasn't just about justice for her.

She wanted revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone asks, yes, Lydia won't be having a major role in this story, since the Jarl named Jaune as Yang's Housecarl (at her insistence, without Jaune's consent or knowledge). Truly, a dark day for Skyrim's best (and snarkiest) packmule.
> 
> Yang's surprise at being made Thane stems from a mostly romanticized idea of Skyrim. Once again, she's not Skyrim-born, but a native of Cyrodiil who's essentially on a pilgrimage to Skyrim, her ancestral homeland. To her (especially in the war-ravaged Cyrodiil ruled by the politically-weakening Titus Mede), titles, especially those related to nobility, would have come from either generations of deeds, familial connections, or years of paying massive "donations" to all the right people. Sure, she would have expected a massive reward of some sort for the tablet and for killing the dragon, but not the "honor" of being made a de facto advisor of the Jarl she'd met just that very same day.
> 
> Meanwhile, from Balgruuf's perspective, he gets a positive relationship with the Dragonborn, a badass dragon slayer, and manages to build ties between her and the city of Whiterun. Not to mention, while he has her ear, he can also safely ignore any advise she gives that he may not like, nor is he risking his niece Lydia to be made into her Housecarl. And before anyone starts, I like Balgruuf as a character, and I genuinely think he's a good Jarl and a good person (the way he sneaks to the local tavern to have drinks with his citizens, as compared to the Jarl of Falkreath, who protects bandits from his guards as long as they give him a cut, and the Jarl of Riften... the Stormcloak-aligned Jarl, while idealistic and principled, is also blind and a poor judge of character, looking at her steward and confidant Maven Black-Briar; the Imperial-aligned one is Maven Black-Briar, which says more than enough). That doesn't mean that he can't be smart, calculating, or have ulterior motives. Sure, he's definitely grateful to Yang for saving the city and all, but that doesn't mean he doesn't try to stack the deck so that his rewards also benefit his city.
> 
> And yes, according to the books in The Elder Scrolls on the subject (specifically On Lycanthropy, in Daggerfall), lycanthropy can actually be transmitted via attacks. It also says that werewolves are not obligate carnivores, and the author wonders if the disease simply drives them mad and aggressive with the knowledge that their body and soul are doomed, or if it is intentional, a form of procreation by the disease. Then again, it also states that werebears are the most common lycanthrope in Skyrim, but the game seems to show us otherwise. Whatever the truth may be, Yang is not exactly a well-read scholar of the Imperial Library. All she has to go on are stories, legends, and the occasional book of dubious veracity.
> 
> As for her views on the daedra and daedra worshippers... just a few facts to consider; as far as she knows, Cyrodiil was the heart of the Oblivion Crisis, 200 years ago. There was also the Planemeld (the attempt by Molag Bal to merge Coldharbour with Tamriel, which occurred in 2E 582, almost 1000 years prior to the events of Skyrim) and the floating city of Umbriel and it's ruler Umbra that actually besieged the Imperial City in 4E 49. After all those events, the fact that daedra worshippers assassinated Uriel Septim, and 200 years of propaganda by the Vigilants of Stendarr... is it really any surprise that anyone born in Cyordiil wouldn't be conditioned to loathe the daedra and their worshippers in the same way that an Imperial citizen in the 40k world would be conditioned to hate the witch, the mutant, the xenos, the heretic?
> 
> Jaune, meanwhile, naturally takes her word for it, since he's never met a werewolf, doesn't have anything to compare daedra to, and has no reason to be skeptical of Yang's words. He's not yet completely weaned of his more... black-and-white worldview, after all. Even Pyrrha's death, in canon, didn't shake him free of it. And hey, isn't his idealism part of what we enjoy about him?
> 
> As for the Companions approaching the pair in this timeline... why wouldn't the Companions go to recruit the Dragonborn, a proven badass dragonslayer? Tradition? That just means they should be dragging the Dragonborn to see Kodlak as soon as humanly possible, not waiting for them to just finally dance into Jorrvaskr! As for why Yang goes along with them... she knows, and respects, the reputation of the Companions. As for when she met them... the game's scripted so that you meet them as they take down a giant the first time you reach Whiterun.


	8. Dragonborn Lessons

"I'm surprised you're walking straight." Yang noted, nodding with approval at her companion as they walked through the outer gates of the city. Then she smiled at his glare, and teased: "Then again, you did only drink a tenth of what we did."

"I'm surprised _you're_ walking straight." Jaune shot back without any real heat, as the early morning's brisk wind helped him slowly wake up. A few farmers were already tending to their fields outside the city, and as they stopped their work to wave at the pair Jaune took the time to wave back at them. Then he tried to glare at his companion, and continued: "You know, seeing as how your spine was _broken_ yesterday, you drank double your body weight in alcohol, and you couldn't have gotten more than 4 hours of sleep."

"What can I say? Your Aura does good work." Yang replied easily, stretching her back and shoulders to demonstrate. Jaune had the grace to look away from the interesting effects it had on her t-shirt, though a few of the farmhands didn't until Jaune scowled at them. "Anyway, what did you think of the Companions?"

"Eh, they're alright, I guess?" Jaune said, shrugging. They were boastful, boisterous, and very physical, but his tomboy of a sister Jane was worse, to say nothing of his world's Yang or Nora. For a moment, Jaune had to suppress a grin, at the idea of Nora Valkyrie meeting the Companions, before his face fell as he remembered her. It'd only been a day or so since he'd last seen any of them, but he couldn't help but miss them. His good cheer turned to sentimentality, he idly wondered how his team and friends were taking his disappearance.

Yang misunderstood the look on his face, and quietly told him: "Hey, if you don't like them, you don't have to lie about it. I mean, sure, they did make us members, but since we've proven ourselves by killing a dragon, we're more like freelancers than the usual recruits that are stuck there training all day."

"That's not it..." Jaune reassured her, shaking his head. "Really, I've got no problem with them. They were very friendly, and very interested in hearing my stories. Really, I'd have thought _you'd_ have liked to stay for breakfast, at the very least."

Yang fought down a sigh, and forced herself not to shake her head. Indeed, it was true that they'd taken a liking to Jaune's demeanor and stories, but the way Ria had all but draped herself over him like a cloak after a few drinks and asked that he demonstrate decapitating a bear in a single stroke had certainly rubbed a few people the wrong way, if she had to guess. She'd kept an eye open while sleeping, just in case a jealous potential lover tried to stick a knife in his back while he slept (she didn't know if Aura would protect him in his sleep). Also why she'd rushed them out before sunrise; the cook had been one of the many giving her friend an ugly look.

Not that she could blame them, even if she thought they were wasting their time. Aela was far more intimidating, as a member of the Circle and an established warrior, while the only other young female of the group, Njada Stonearm, had a personality that could politely be described as "caustic". Truly, if it weren't for Ria's sheer earnestness and enthusiasm as a member, she might have been suspicious of the young Imperial woman's motives for joining the Companions.

"Let me guess." Jaune suddenly spoked up, looking enlightened. "You were really excited about getting to the Greybeards and finding out more about being a Dragonborn?"

Yang breathed a sigh of relief, and mentally thanked the Divines for Jaune's obliviousness as she played along: "Yup. You caught me! Can't wait to Shout you into the air again!"

Jaune shot her look, studying her expression intently. Something about her tone and her face reminded him of when Yang was up to something, or hiding something. Then again, this wasn't the Yang he'd known for the past year, so he ultimately chose to shrug it off, replying: "Well, I'm not complaining... about leaving early! I just wanted to avoid the crowds and the attention! Damn it, Yang, I wasn't not complaining about being sent flying! It wasn't funny!"

Yang laughed, having made a show of taking a deep breath at his words. As she exhaled (and Jaune relaxed), she asked: "So, why do you not like the crowds? You seemed fine basking in the glory last night..."

"I _enjoyed_ seeing the relief on the people's faces, Yang." Jaune corrected her, even as they crossed the bridge that marked the unofficial boundaries of Whiterun, and his hand fell to the greatsword in his sheath. The Jarl had warned them that the roads past the bridge weren't as well-patrolled (the guards were bring concentrated around settlements, for obvious reasons). Well, Jaune did have experience travelling through possibly-hostile wilderness.

"But?" Yang prompted, curious.

"I'm just nervous around crowds. When everyone's staring at me, I can't help but wonder, what if I mess up? Everyone would laugh at me!" Jaune explained, remembering his days in school. "Didn't help that I was clumsy and prone to messing up when I first started training..."

"That bad?" Yang asked, raising an eyebrow. Personally, she didn't really care about being seen messing up. After all, she looked awesome no matter what, and if other people wanted to complain about her work, she'd be the first to ask why they weren't doing a better job themselves.

"Well, I wasn't the worst..." Jaune weakly defended, thinking of Ruby's social awkwardness. He tried imagining a crowd cheering around her, and winced. She'd have hidden herself in her cape, or turned into petals within five minutes. Then again, he remembered being declared leader of Team JNPR, and specifically falling off the stage at Pyrrha's gentle nudging, and felt something within him cringe.

"Sure..." Yang said, clearly not believing him. "Well, don't worry about it anyway, Vomit Boy; you're travelling with _the_ Dragonborn!"

"That means more people will be looking at us!" Jaune pointed out in protest.

"That means people will be too struck with our initial reputation to actually care about the little things." Yang corrected him with a grin. "We're _heroes_! You could probably throw up in the streets and someone would try to bottle it and sell it!"

Jaune punched her in the arm lightly, not wanting to injure his fist, trying to suppress a laugh. Instead, he asked something that came to mind: "What exactly is a Dragonborn, anyway? The guards only said that you could slay dragons and absorb their power?"

"Weren't you paying attention to the Companions last night?"

"After the fourth round, nope."

"Dragonborns aren't just dragonslayers... at the very least, that's not how history remembers them." Yang lectured. "According to legend, they are individuals blessed by the gods with the souls of dragons, which grants them the power to absorb the souls of the dragons they slay. I guess that's something dragons can do to other dragons' souls..."

"So, if a Dragonborn is killed by a dragon, would their soul be eaten by the dragon?" Jaune pointed out, concerned. Death was one thing, but losing one's soul? Jaune didn't know if this new life was a one-off thing, but he guessed that, at the very least, he'd be permanently dead if his _soul_ was eaten.

"... you know, that's not something mentioned in legend..." Yang murmured, thinking about it. "I mean, we know about Sovngarde, but it's still not exactly common for a person to visit the afterlife and come back, so nobody can say for certain-"

"Wait, _the_ afterlife?!" Jaune tried interrupting. "Wait, you were being literal?!"

"And I'd guess it's also because the Dragonborns who do die early to dragons don't get stories written about them." Yang pressed on thoughtfully, ignoring Jaune.

Jaune stared at her, considered the absolute bombshell she'd dropped on him, and decided to leave thinking about it to another day. After all, he had no intention of dying again anytime soon. Instead, he asked: "What are the more famous Dragonborns?"

"I guess the most famous one would be Talos... or as he was formerly known as, Tiber Septim, the man who reunified the continent of Tamriel, founded the Septim Dragonborn Emperors, ushered in the Third Era, before ascending to become the ancestor god of the Nords." Yang said easily, the knowledge being commonplace even six hundred years later. "Other than that... I guess his descendants count? But besides them, I can't really think of any..."

"Oum, the most famous Dragonborn founded an empire and _became a god_?" Jaune asked in an awestruck tone, eyes wide.

"Well... that's kind of a point of contention right now..." Yang admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. "You remember what Alvor mentioned, about the White-Gold Concordat and the Civil War?"

"Oh, right... the worship of Talos was banned by the elves in exchange for a truce... and the rebels want to worship Talos?" Jaune tried recalling what the blacksmith had said, with some difficulty. To be fair, he'd never been the best student, having survived Beacon in no small part due to Pyrrha's tutoring sessions, Ren's notes, and study sessions with Ruby (the last of which had rarely been productive).

" _Openly_ worship Talos." Yang corrected him. "I'd bet my right arm that no small number of loyalists also worship Talos."

Jaune tried to understand, he really did, but it was a lost cause. History had never been his strongest suit, religion wasn't big in Ansel (or most of Remnant), and Skyrim wasn't the world he'd grown up in. He just couldn't understand rebelling against the government just over the right to worship.

But it clearly meant something to Yang, and the people fighting the war, so he decided to keep his silence, rather than putting his foot in his mouth. Instead, he changed the subject to safer grounds: "So, gonna try and become Queen or something?"

Yang chuckled, appreciating the change in subject, but didn't let him get away with it. She slugged him with enough force to rock him (though not _hurt_ him; she doubted she could get through his Aura with a single punch), and corrected him: "It'd be _High Queen_ of Skyrim, thank you very much."

"Alright, alright... so, what do you think they'll teach you?"

"I guess they'll teach me how to be a Dragonborn? Like we said, the gods must have given me this power for a purpose... and the Greybeards will help me learn my purpose as they teach me about my powers."

"..." Jaune found himself speechless at the answer that he'd have expected from Pyrrha and not Yang Xiao-Long, and wondered if her next line would be about believing in destiny.

Yang grinned, and added: "And I'll be known throughout the land! The songs of my glory would _immortalize_ me!"

Jaune chuckled and rolled his eyes at the very Yang-like answer, finding himself thankful that Skyrim didn't seem to have boy bands. Then he elaborated: "No, I mean... what _exactly_ do you think they'll teach you. Like, more Words? Stronger Shouts? Maybe they'll teach you to change the weather or turn someone into a toad!"

"Turn someone into a toad?" Yang echoed, amused. "I don't think I've ever heard of something like _that_... but I'm sure that, at the very least, it'll be interesting."

**-IVARSTEAD, 3 DAYS LATER-**

The pair trudged to the town at the base of the mountain in silence, as they had when they'd been effectively kicked out of High Hrothgar the night before. They were still scowling furiously, but Yang couldn't tell whether Jaune's scowl was from disappointment, annoyance, or from weathering the biting cold, just as she couldn't tell if the red ears peeking out from his makeshift scarf was because of the weather or embarrassment.

Finally, as they reached crossed the bridge into the town, Jaune spoke up: "So... that was... unexpected."

Privately, Yang had thought that Jaune's tongue had been frozen to the roof of his mouth. But she still grinned, unable to resist, and teased: "What was, sharing a bedroll with me? Or nothing happening?"

Jaune's scowl deepened at her, as he remembered huddling together for warmth in a makeshift tent on the mountain. It had been that, or attempt to travel through the blizzard, and the temptation of a warm bed hadn't been enough to rally them.

Then again, it hadn't been his first time camping; he'd gone on trips to the wilds often enough with his family, as well as team training exercises in the Emerald Forest. Nora had done the same with Ren, and Pyrrha had insisted on doing the same with him, during the brisk fall nights of Beacon's survival training camps, and Jaune had always marveled at how innocent and trusting Pyrrha was. After all, Pyrrha was basically a drop-dead gorgeous supermodel, but she didn't seem to see any problem with sharing a bed with her leader and partner. Jaune, for his part, had tried his best to live up to that trust.

Yang, however, had spent the whole night teasing him and making innuendos even he could pick up on. Then again, it was _Yang_ ; she was just like that with everybody, and so Jaune had decided not to think too deeply about it. Instead, ignoring her teasing, he corrected her: "I _meant_ , the Greybeards only training us for half an hour."

"Yeah, that was... definitely not what I expected." Yang agreed, annoyed. To be fair, the tales of the Greybeards spoke of _decades_ of secluded meditation to learn even the simplest of Words, so she _could_ consider herself lucky that she had a shortcut. But still, they'd only taught her that Shouts consisted of up to three Words, had taught her the Second Word of the Unrelenting Force Shout ("Ro", after "Fus"), and then had taught her the first Word of a new Shout. And Whirlwind Sprint was a cool Shout, to be sure; she enjoyed the rush of just flying forward with the force of a hurricane.

But after those two Words, they'd decided that she only needed one final test to complete her training; to go to the tomb of their founder, between Solitude (the stronghold of the Legion, who had tried to kill her that one time) and Morthal (a backwater in the middle of swampy nowhere), and retrieve a horn. That had been all.

For climbing up the tallest mountain in the land, to meet with the secluded Masters of the Way of the Voice, they'd gotten Two Words, a quest, and a night of freezing their nipples off.

"Couldn't they have taught you a Shout that, I dunno, would make you fly like a dragon? Or breathe fire like a dragon?" Jaune asked, thinking of all his superhero comics. Yang with super-speed had been _a_ sight (one he knew Ruby would have given up cookies for a week to see), and he'd laughed with excitement when her two Word-ed Shout had shaken the building, but he'd been expecting something more.

"Yeah, I was expecting a bit of Fire Breath too, at least." Yang admitted. "Well, at least the tomb'll probably be interesting."

"Traps, fake walls that only reveal themselves when you use the Voice? Maybe you need to use that new speed to hit two or three levers at once?" Jaune suggested.

Yang laughed at the absurdity of the statement, before pointing out: "Two levers at once? We could both just pull them at the same time, in that case. I doubt the tomb of the _founder_ of the Greybeards, built thousands of years ago, would be so easy to overcome."

"By the way, this is supposed to have been a test all Dragonborns go through when they get trained by the Greybeards, right?" Jaune asked, as he thought about it a bit more.

"I... believe so, yes."

"Who do you think puts the horn back every time after they it to the mountain top?"

Yang spent a few moments to process his words, before choking on her laughter.

Encouraged, Jaune tried to continue, but was suddenly interrupted by a voice, shouting: "You there! You're the one they call Dragonborn?"

Jaune and Yang exchanged a look, before studying the trio of masked and robed individuals approaching them. Yang shrugged, and replied: "Yes, I am Dragonborn."

"Your lies fall on deaf ears, Deceiver. The True Dragonborn comes... you are but his shadow." Another accused in response.

The third followed up, shouting: "When Lord Miraak appears all shall bear witness. None shall stand to oppose him!"

"Woah, calm down now, what are you talking about..." Jaune asked, approaching them, before the first threw a fireball at him.

The fireball burst against his Aura, the white glow shielding him from harm, and as the smoke cleared, he glared at them, and drew his sword.

Yang was quicker, and jumped at the one who'd thrown the fireball, casting one of the few spells she knew in the meantime. A cloak of fire enveloped her body, and a flaming fist smashed the masked man's skull into the pavement.

The second rushed at her with a dagger, before screaming in pain as the flames burned his arm. Yang stared at him with her red pupils, before Shouting him into the nearby stone wall.

The third tried charging a spell, before the flat of a blade hit the top of his head. Jaune rolled his eyes as the figure collapsed, before sheathing his sword. He then looked at the fiery Yang (who reminded him of nothing less than a Yang Xiao-Long who was using her Semblance), and asked: "Since when could you do _that_?!"

"This Fire Cloak? It's one of the few spells I can do..." Yang admitted, not seeing the issue.

"Then why didn't you use it fighting the dragon?!"

"... you want me to light myself on fire, in the middle of the night, while a dragon is flying around?" Yang asked, skeptical, as the spell wore off and the bright flames around her died away.

"... okay, but what about Bleak Falls Barrow?"

"I didn't need it in the barrow. Also, bottom of a tomb that's been sealed for thousands of years? Bad time to run out of air." Yang pointed out, wiping her knuckles on the robes of one of the fallen men.

"What about last night?"

"... I can't exactly control the temperature, Jaune... I'd have burned the bedroll." Yang explained. "Anyway, shall we finish them off?"

"Do we have to kill them?" Jaune whined.

"Vomit Boy..."

"I mean, they're down and out right now! Let's just tie them up and leave them for the guards!"

"Vomit Boy..."

"Look, we want to know who sent them and why they attacked us, right?" Jaune defended his suggestion, mind racing. "Why don't we get the guards to question them while we grab some food and drink? It's not like they'd have a convenient note on them with all the details, right?"

Yang thought about his words, and begrudgingly admitted (to herself) that he had a point. Leaving them alive might be troublesome down the line; revenge was always a possibility. But intelligence was also important, especially if someone else was going around pretending to be a Dragonborn and trying to kill her. So, shrugging, she called for a guard, and after a brief explanation (complete with testimony from some of the farmers that she hadn't thrown the first punch), the injured trio were hauled off to the settlement's guard quarters for interrogation, and the pair were in the tavern, pecking at a simple meal of bread, cheese, and vegetable soup.

"Well, at least it's not jerky again." Yang quipped between mouthfuls, enjoying the warmth spreading through her body. The bread was hard, and the soup mediocre at best, but just the feeling of a hot meal after days on the road was nothing to be scoffed at.

"What's wrong jerky?" Jaune asked, ripping off chunks of cheese and putting it between torn-off chunks of bread.

Yang just stared at him, before saying: "Besides the taste, the texture, and the toughness?"

"Eh, it was alright. The bread feels a bit... off, though." Jaune allowed.

"Yeah, it's a bit stale..."

"No, that's not it. It's not bad! It's just... softer than I'm used to." Jaune admitted.

Yang stared at him, then at the stale loaf of bread in her hand. She then grabbed the bread from his hand, and poked at it. Nope, it was also as stale and hard as hers. "Vomit Boy, what are you talking about?"

"I'm serious! The bread at home is much harder than this?" Jaune defended.

"How hard can bread be?!"

"Mmm... we used them as weapons during a food fight." Jaune recalled wistfully. "Blake used two loaves to shatter watermelons Nora threw at them."

Yang recalled a melon she'd seen in the marketplace once, and stared at him in silent disbelief.

"Another one punched watermelons out of the air using turkeys as gauntlets... oh, right, then my teammate Ren tried fighting her with leeks! I think he buried them halfway into the ground when he threw them..."

The other patrons of the quiet tavern looked at him, then looked at Yang, who looked back at them with a look of utter incomprehension. Somewhere in the back, someone bought a fresh leek from the counter, and tapped it against the floor. Yang finally asked: "You're joking, right?"

"Nope, that was a fun food fight... we left a hole in the ceiling after someone got hit with a melon-on-a-pole..."

"... are you sure the food in your home is actually edible?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Fortunately, Yang was spared from having to answer when a guard came into the tavern, looking for them. As Jaune politely nodded at him, the guard began: "Alright, you two, I've got some information from the masked man."

"That quickly?" Yang asked in disbelief. "I don't think he was that cooperative... or conscious..."

"Well, no, we just searched him." The guard explained, before holding out a parchment. "See, he had this note on him, which I thought you might like to read.

Yang took it from him, and Jaune set his food aside to peer over her shoulder, as they read the following:

_Board the vessel Northern Maiden docked at Raven Rock. Take it to Windhelm, then begin your search. Kill the False Dragonborn known as Yang of Bravil before she reaches Solstheim. Return with word of your success, and Miraak shall be most pleased._

Jaune groaned into his hand, cursing the stupidity of the world, as Yang couldn't help but rib him: "No convenient note with all the details, eh?"

"Dang it, Yang!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And our heroes have now made it to the next step of being a Dragonborn: becoming an errand boy (or girl) for the Greybeards!
> 
> Yes, that is pretty much how it goes in Skyrim. You show up, get taught two words, and then you get sent for your last trial. Gotta wonder if anybody's actually failed the Greybeards...
> 
> From Miraak's perspective, sending the three stooges to try and kill you makes perfect sense. Either the three most useless cultists somehow kill you, and he removes one of the biggest obstacles of his return (which then becomes but a matter of time until he corrupts the spirit of the land of Solstheim), or they fail horribly, and the note he gives them leads the character right to Solstheim, where he can lure them in, and eat their soul to gain the power necessary to escape. But, from the Dragonborn's perspective, either Miraak is the most incompetent schemer in the history of Tamriel, or it's got to be a trap. Also, the cultists really aren't anything special. Sure, they're three novice mages, but by this point you've killed at least one dragon and been taught by the Greybeards.
> 
> And I'm treating the Beacon Food Fight like it's completely canon. Which means the food they eat normally is basically a weapon. In Remnant, everything must be able to kill a Grimm!


	9. Things Going Bump In The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those that fairly pointed out in the last chapter that they were probably channeling their Aura into their food during the Food Fight, I will freely admit that yes, I did overlook that. But I'm still keeping it, just for the sake of humor. Totally not because I was planning on having him bite a dragon or anything...

"What do you think happened here?" Jaune asked Yang, as they approached the burning building. "Do you think it was another dragon attack?"

"Could be..." Yang murmured, as she quickly appraised the unfamiliar location. "Hard to tell without studying the scene. Doesn't look the same as Helgen and the Watchtower, though..."

Jaune deferred to her memory of the attacks, instead choosing to scan the wreckage for any signs of life. A growing part of him, hardened by the ten days he'd spent in Skyrim, felt that the effort was futile. Too many times, they'd only gotten there in time to bury the bodies; he'd dug enough graves since Ivarstead.

A hand gripped his shoulder firmly, and he turned to look at Yang's concerned face. He didn't shrug it off or lean into it, but just remained still, enjoying the comfort of the contact. Yang, of course, couldn't let the moment be without saying _something_ : "Hey, you're the reason we couldn't just take a carriage from Windhelm to Solitude, Vomit Boy."

Jaune glared back at her, face flushed with embarrassment at the memory. They'd travelled from Ivarstead to Windhelm, initially planning on investigating the ship mentioned in the masked men's note, but as soon as they'd entered the city, they'd seen two drunken Nords harassing a Dark Elf. Jaune could only see Team CRDL and Velvet, and had intervened. The only reason the guards had let them go was because they'd been awed by Yang's name and deeds, but even so most of the local shopkeepers (including the carriage driver) had refused to serve Jaune. Yang had not taken it well.

"If I hadn't dragged you away from the marketplace, you would've ripped someone's head off!" Jaune protested, feebly trying to defend himself.

"We could still have just gone to Solstheim." Yang pointed out, no heat in her gaze or voice. "Think about it! A nice desert island..."

Jaune fought down a fond smile, finally understanding that she was just trying to keep his mind occupied. After all, they'd _both_ agreed, after finding the captain of the _Northern Maiden_ , that heading to Ustengrav was their best bet. Judging by the man's ramblings, it seemed that the Lord "Miraak" had solidified his power base in Solstheim, to say nothing of his personal ability, if he could control the minds of an entire island. Much safer to get the horn, bring it back to the Greybeards, and then try to learn everything they knew about Dragonborns in general and "Miraak" in particular. And so they'd disguised their identities, not knowing if Miraak had sent any other assassins, and left Windhelm.

"Do you really want to risk getting _me_ on a boat?" Jaune shot back, with as much heat in his voice. Yang barked out a laugh as he grasped her hand, letting her know he was fine now, and the pair separated. As Yang moved into the building to inspect the smoldering wreckage, hoping to find any clues, Jaune gave up on looking for any movement, and instead moved to examine the bodies (and prepare to dig a few more graves).

A dark four-legged figure caught his eye, and as he moved towards the big dog, he found himself thinking of Zwei. He hadn't seen Ruby's dog during the Fall, but for some reason he couldn't envision _anything_ happening to Zwei, and not just because Ruby would've cried if anything _did_. Then he turned the body over, and his heart turned to ice.

Yang, meanwhile, turned over a few bodies in the wrecked interior of the hall, and paused as she noticed a glint of brass, reflecting the orange glow. Kneeling down, she pulled it out, and studied it's horned shape, before looking back at the body. The robes and the gauntlets and leggings should have been a dead giveaway, but the Amulet of Stendarr in her hand was the final confirmation that she was looking at the corpses of Vigilants of Stendarr.

Well, some of them, anyway. The rest were in a dark leather armor that she didn't recognize.

Yang wondered if this had been a Vigilant raid gone wrong (or right), or if this second group had attacked a Hall of the Vigilants. Either way, this was much bigger than she'd anticipated, and she turned back outside, to call Jaune in.

A body came sailing in through the doorway, interrupting her.

She blinked, confused.

Jaune sprinted in, following the body she'd just seen him kick, before he swiftly decapitated the canine corpse with a single stroke.

She blinked again, staring at the uncharacteristic display of brutality, before her mouth finally caught up to her brain, and she asked: "What in Oblivion was that?!"

Jaune focused on the corpse, instead, and when it didn't dissipate into smoke, he finally calmed down. Then he noticed Yang glaring at him, and sheepishly answered: "Well, it reminded me of a Grimm..."

"A Grimm? Really?" Yang asked, eyebrow raised.

"It was pitch black with glowing red eyes and a shadowy aura!" Jaune protested, pointing to the corpse, and Yang's words died as she studied it. Indeed, the dead hound looked sinister, and though she hadn't seen a Grimm before, she could say for certain that she had never seen a creature like that.

Fearing a sudden invasion of interdimensional shadowy daedra, she quietly asked: "So, is it a Grimm?"

"No... Grimm bodies dissolve when they die." Jaune explained, as he sheathed his sword. "Reminded me of a Beowolf, though..."

"It certainly looks like it was a dog of some sort..." Yang murmured, studying it. The fact that it had a collar implied it was domesticated, and she found herself torn between relief that it wasn't a Grimm, and concern at the fact that somebody was apparently breeding and taming these things. Then she looked around, at the tattered banners on the walls. Most were defaced and burned, but she could barely make out a sign of Stendarr...

"Yang? What's wrong?" Jaune asked, concerned at how Yang had suddenly stiffened.

"Jaune... do you know what the Vigilants of Stendarr are?" Yang began, as she knelt by the robed figure.

"Nope."

"They're a religious, founded in the aftermath of the Oblivion Crisis..." Yang continued her explanation, even as she placed the Amulet of Stendarr on the body.

"The demon invasion, right? So, they hunt demons?"

"Close enough." Yang confirmed, before getting up, and gesturing around the interior of the destroyed building. "This... _was_ a Hall of the Vigilants. _Somebody_ attacked them, with enough force to wipe out their headquarters."

Jaune thought of Beacon, of Ozpin, of the attack. He'd never met the Vigilants, but Yang's description reminded him of Huntmen and Huntresses (except religious); men and women who volunteered to risk their lives fighting enemies of humanity. He could respect that.

"So, what do we do now?" Jaune asked, already guessing the answer

"We look for tracks, any signs of where their attackers came from, and where they went." Yang answered, as if it were the most obvious thing. "Then we find out who did this, and we get the word out, warn Skyrim that the Vigilants have been attacked."

They didn't have to look far, as it turned out. The trail led to a worn path up the mountain behind the hall, and upon closer examination the signs were obvious. Even if Jaune hadn't learned his survival skills in Beacon, and Yang hadn't been taught by members of Cyrodiil's Fighter's Guild, the larger a group was, the more evidence they left behind. And, by the looks of things, the group that had attacked the Hall and then gone up the mountain was large enough to be a small army, even after the losses they'd surely taken from the Vigilants.

Following the trail took them up stairs carved into a mountain, before leading to a cave in the mountain. They couldn't tell if the noise they heard from within was the wind of faints echoes of voices.

"... we're going in, aren't we?" Jaune asked rhetorically, having the weirdest sense of _deja vu_.

"We don't know how much longer whoever did this is going to be in there." Yang pointed out. "Might be our only chance to catch a glimpse of the people behind the attack."

"Do you want me to fashion a torch?"

"Nope. The light could give us away."

"... Skyrim doesn't have Deathstalkers, right?"

"What are those?"

"Giant bugs with pincers and a stinger on a tail."

"Oh, you mean a giant scorpion? We have those, but they're native to Hammerfell."

Jaune didn't know where Hammerfell was, but he didn't feel as reassured by Yang's statement as she'd have liked. After all, that's what they said about the Emerald Forest. His suspicions only grew as he noted a warm orange glow ahead, as the narrow passage widened into a massive opening.

Yang held out a hand suddenly, and Jaune stopped, trusting her instincts. Peering deeper into the opening, he noted two figures standing over a third, by a fallen torch. Snippets of a conversation slowly became audible to him, as he focused.

_"... I thought we'd taught them enough of a lesson at their hall..."_

_"To come in here alone... a fool like all the rest of them."_

_"He fought well though. Jeron and Bresoth were no match for him."_

_"Ha. Those two deserved what they got. Their arrogance had become insufferable."_

_"All this talk is making me thirsty. Perhaps another Vigilant will wander in soon..."_

Yang stiffened, as she watched two pairs of orange orbs flick towards the cave's passageway, where she and Jaune had halted, and clenched her fist tightly. This was bad; she didn't want to bet against their senses in this environment, not if her suspicions about their true identities proved correct. Not for the first time, she found herself wishing that she'd simply listened to her first instincts and ignored Vomit Boy when he'd suggested they check out the burning building.

He really was a bad influence on her, she reflected ruefully, but to be fair even she couldn't have imagined the situation was _this_ bad. Well, in such a situation, there was only one thing to do...

" ** _WULD_**!" Yang Shouted, leaping out of the passage, and as the Whirlwind Sprint Shout shot her body forward, she quickly channeled magicka into her hands, focusing on the image of flames surrounding her body. As she landed between the two figures, she released the spell, and flames shot up around her, eliciting twin screeches of pain.

She had the advantage of surprise, for now, but she knew she couldn't risk letting them get their bearings. Quickly spinning to face the bigger one, she delivered a quick uppercut to his jaw, being careful to avoid his teeth, before quickly kicking his knee in, forcing him down. A jab to his face had him reeling back, before she Shouted him into a nearby wall.

Jaune, to his credit, hadn't let himself be surprised for too long. After all, he'd known Yang Xiao-Long for almost a year, and he'd known Yang for over a week now. In the time it'd taken for her to neutralize the bigger of the pair, he'd gathered his wits, drawn his sword, and charged at the other figure just as she'd begun recovering from the shock. She drew her sword swiftly, faster than anyone Jaune had ever seen in Beacon, but he was already in motion.

Yang turned to see the other creature's sword blocked by Jaune's own sword as it swung towards her back, and she drew the axe Jarl Balgruuf had given her from her back, before decapitating the creature.

Howls echoed around the cave, as a black blur shot at them. Yang trusted that Jaune would deal with it, moving instead to quickly finish off the first creature. She could not allow the creature time to recover, not when she knew from the tracks that there were more ahead. As Jaune's shield intercepted fifty kilos of muscle and teeth, and his sword stabbed into the creature's red eye (Port would have been so proud), Yang split the creature's skull open with a swift chop.

"Was that really necessary?" Jaune spoke first, not bothering to hide his surprise, as he switched his shield into a sheath and watched the fire die around Yang. He'd seen her fight and kill bandits, sure, but she'd never been this ruthless and brutal, and certainly never this quiet. For a moment he wondered if the destruction of the Hall had gotten to her more than she realized.

Then she marched over to the decapitated head of the woman that he'd defended her from, and held it up, letting gravity pull it's jaw down.

"Fangs." Yang spat like a curse word, as they saw the sharp teeth within. "My suspicions were correct. We're dealing with _vampires_."

"Vampires?!" Jaune repeated, incredulously. "What, like undead blood-sucking creatures of the night?"

"They have them in your world?" Yang asked, intrigued.

"They're _stories_ , just like werewolves..." Jaune began, before pausing and groaning. _Of course_ Skyrim would also have vampires. Why _not_?

"Look at the fallen Vigilant, too." Yang told him, as she beckoned towards the corpse the two vampires had been standing over. Jaune froze as he saw the desiccated body. "They must have drank him dry."

"So... an army of vampires attacked the hall?" Jaune tried to piece together the information they had. "Why? And how could there be that many vampires? Entire villages would be disappearing, if they drink like this!"

"I don't know, Jaune, but whatever the reason is, it can't be good. Now let's go; the rest must be deeper within, along with whatever they're looking for."

For a moment, Jaune was tempted to pull Yang back. After all, they were in way over their heads, and this shouldn't have been their problem.

But then reason reasserted itself. Who would they ask, the _guards_? The Companions, who were days away in Whiterun? The Vigilants, who'd been all but wiped out? No, by the time anybody who _could_ deal with it got here, the vampires would probably be long gone. And Yang was right; if they'd just been looking to attack the Hall, they'd have left after killing everyone and burning it to the ground, not stick around just a few hundred metres from the scene of the crime. They were here for something, and he and Yang were the only ones who could actually thwart their plans.

Jaune sighed, wondering when his life had gotten so crazy. He couldn't decide if he should blame his situation on running away from home to Beacon, or from charging up the tower. But still, he grabbed the torch by the body, guessing that the vampires had night vision, and followed Yang.

After all, he'd always wanted to be a hero.

**-ONE DUNGEON LATER-**

"What do you think this is?" Jaune asked, as he sheathed his sword, and studied the stone monolith in the center of the massive chamber they were in. The pentagonal prismic stone slab betrayed nothing, nor did the curved triangular arches that ringed the chamber give any hint as to their purpose, their significance.

"I've got no clue, Vomit Boy." Yang admitted, as she kicked the headless vampire's body into the water below them, and finally breathed a sigh of relief. They hadn't had a chance to relax, the dungeon having been crawling with draugr, spiders, the weird hounds, and vampires, and the only reason why they'd survived (besides their skill, of course) was because the draugr had been busy defending the tomb from the vampires and hounds, and the spiders had been attempting to feast upon the sudden influx of prey. Coupled with the element of surprise, the pair had been able to clear out the tomb without sustaining any injuries, but it had been close at times.

Too close.

Yang shuddered, wondering what she'd have done if Jaune had gotten infected with Sanguinare Vampiris. Fortunately, with the cave free of vampires (as far as she could tell, at any rate), she'd never have to find out.

"Well, whatever this is, it must have been important..." Jaune replied, unaware of her internal dilemma. "The entire tomb looks like it was created to house this stone chamber."

"It certainly looks like its significant..." Yang agreed. She didn't know how old the ancient tomb was, but a massive stone structure, on a small island floating high over a deep pool of water, suspended by two land bridges on opposite sides, in a massive cavernous chamber? That would have been Oblivion to build, even in the modern day.

"Think this is what the vampires were here for?" Jaune asked, as he began to take a closer look at it. The smooth carvings disappointed him; he'd been hoping for some obvious pressure plate, some compartment or button to press.

"Well, the two vampires and their thrall were moving these braziers around it for a reason, and it probably had something to do with the cavern shaking just now and this rock rising out of the ground." Yang answered. "Well, either way, we should get out of here. Get out, report this to... _someone_ , and get an armed guard to stop the vampires from coming back."

"Yeah, you're right. We still need to get to Ustengrav, anyway." Jaune relented, pressing against the slab as he pushed himself up.

Two sides of the monolith slid neatly downwards, as pressure was applied, revealing a girl within the hollow of the monolith, who promptly collapsed to her knees on the floor in front of Jaune.

Jaune and Yang blinked, dumbfounded, before instinct kicked in, and Jaune automatically knelt down by her side, ready to check if she was okay.

The woman slowly opened her bright orange eyes, and slowly and unsteadily tried to get to her feet.

Jaune reached for her before Yang could stop him, and supported the mysterious girl as she staggered. She looked at him gratefully, before blinking in surprise, and hesitantly asked: "Unh... where is... who sent you here?"

"Who were you expecting?" Jaune asked kindly, remembering what Beacon had taught him about civilians undergoing shock. Best thing to do was to keep them talking, keep them conscious and focused, and he tried playing along with the poor girl while he tried checking her vitals.

"I was expecting someone... like me, at least." The girl slowly admitted, as she noticed the blonde woman behind the man helping her drawing an axe.

""Like you"?" Jaune echoed, oblivious as ever. "What do you mean?"

"Get away from her, Jaune." Yang ordered, brandishing her axe. "She's a vampire!"

Jaune balked, and started to scramble away, but she gripped his arm tightly, shouting: "Wait! Please, listen to me!"

"Why should we listen to you, bloodsucker?" Yang demanded, not lowering her weapon for a second.

"Well, look. Kill me, you've killed one vampire." She replied matter-of-factly. "But if people are after me, there's something bigger going on. I can help you find out what that is."

Jaune looked at the vampire, at her expression, and at where she still gripped his hand. He looked at his tense companion. Finally, he sighed, and said: "Yang..."

" _Really_ , Vomit Boy?! Just like _that_?!" Yang snarled, still keeping her weapon up.

"She could've hurt me at any time, Yang." Jaune pointed out. "I can feel her grip strength; she could have taken me hostage, or pulled me down and tried to rip my neck out."

"No, she really couldn't." Yang replied bluntly, remembering his Aura.

"... okay, fair enough, but she doesn't know _that_." Jaune conceded the point, but refused back down. "But she's right. We know the vampires were searching this tomb for something; now, we know it's her. And if she can help us find out why they were searching for her..."

"..." Yang looked like she'd bitten into a lemon, with how scrunched up her face was as she thought over his words.

"Yang..." Jaune wheedled.

"..."

" _Yang_..."

"Alright, fine!" Yang roared at him, violently sheathing her axe. "We'll do it your way, but if I catch even a hint of treachery..."

Jaune grinned at a fuming Yang, and ignored her glare as he turned to a relieved vampire, asking: "Well, you heard her. Where do you want us to take you?"

"My family used to live on an island to the west of Solitude. I would guess they still do." She answered him quickly, before Yang could change her mind about the whole thing. Then, she smiled at him, and added: "By the way... my name is Serana. Good to meet you."

"As long as you don't get in the way." Yang sniped at her, before Jaune could return the greeting.

"I was going to say the same thing to you." Serana shot back.

"All right, that's enough." Jaune said, quickly interposing himself between the pair. Before either of them could say anything more, he quickly introduced them: "I'm Jaune Arc, and that's Yang."

"Charmed." Serana replied with a warm voice, looking at him with a twinkle in her eye.

"Hmph." Yang turned her nose up at Serana, refusing to acknowledge her presence any further, a gesture which Serana returned with equal venom.

Jaune had to fight down a smile and a chuckle. Their interactions just reminded him too much of Ruby and Weiss when they'd first met, and he found himself fervently praying to any gods who were listening that the two would remind him of Ruby and Weiss after a semester at Beacon.

Eventually. Even miracles had _some_ limits.

Either way, he figured it'd probably be best to keep them separated from the time being, and as he pushed Yang towards the direction they came from, he whispered: "Look, Yang, just bear with it until we're out of here. Then, you can head to Ustengrav to grab the horn while I bring her to her family castle-"

"You're not getting rid of me _that_ easily, Vomit Boy." Yang turned and snarled at him, teeth bared.

"Get rid of... why would you think I'm getting rid of you?" Jaune exclaimed, wondering where in the world Yang had gotten that idea. "Miraak's still out there, and so you need to get it back to the Greybeards as soon as possible, right?"

"And what, leave you to wander into a nest of vampires by yourself?" Yang pointed out the flaw in his plan with barely-suppressed skepticism.

"I won't be alone!" Jaune protested. "Serana will be with me!"

Yang's eyes flashed red, and Jaune immediately knew he'd said the wrong thing. Spinning around, she firmly jabbed her finger into his chest, and with finality declared: "I'm going with you."

Knowing there would be no arguing, Jaune instead tried to change the subject to safer grounds, and asked Serana: "Hey, Serana, what's your home like?"

"It's... on an island near Solitude." Serana began hesitantly, not knowing where exactly to start. "Hopefully we can find a boat to take us there. Not the most welcoming place, but depending on who's around, I'll be safe there."

Jaune recognized the tone of voice. Sympathetically, he asked: "Someone you don't want to see?"

"My father and I don't really get along." Serana explained to him, before groaning good-naturedly, and adding: "Ugh, saying it out loud makes it sound so... common. "Little girl who doesn't get along with her father." Read that story a hundred times."

Jaune chuckled at the joke, not least because the resemblance between her and Weiss was stronger than ever in his mind. Then, he continued: "By the way, what's that on your back? Some sort of scroll?"

"It's... it's an Elder Scroll." Serana admitted hesitantly, before defensively adding: "And it's _mine_."

"Bullshit." Yang interrupted, before Jaune could ask what in Oum's name an Elder Scroll was. "Why would a vampire have an _Elder Scroll_?"

"Hey, not my problem if you don't believe me." Serana retorted. "As for why I have one... it's... complicated. I can't really talk about it."

"Does it have to do with why you were locked up?" Jaune asked quickly, trying to calm the pair down before Yang could reach for her axe.

"I'm sorry." Serana apologized, even as she nodded in confirmation. Jaune fought down the pang of nostalgia, as he was suddenly reminded his overly-polite partner, and pulled himself together to hear her explain: "It's not that... it's just that I don't know who I can trust _yet_. Let's get to my home, and I'll have a better sense of where we all stand."

"How do you know your family's still there, anyway?" Jaune asked, curious.

""...""

"I'm not asking how you know if they're still _alive_!" Jaune elaborated, face flushing with embarrassment as the two girls wordlessly stared at him, before reflecting that "alive" was probably a poor choice of words. "I meant, how do you know that they're still _there_ , _on the family island_ , after... how long were you in there, actually?"

"Good question. Hard to say." Serana replied, after some thought. "I... I can't really tell. I feel like it was a long time. Who is Skyrim's High King?"

Jaune elbowed Yang, since he knew basically nothing about politics in Skyrim. Hell, for all he knew a cabbage was the High King, with a rock for a consort! Yang sighed, and reluctantly answered: "That's... actually a matter of debate, right now."

"Oh, wonderful. A war of succession. Good to know the world didn't get boring while I was gone." Serana replied easily, as she recalled all the different lines of successors she'd read about in her studies, as part of her upbringing. "Who are the contenders?"

"The Empire supports Ellisif, but there are many in Skyrim loyal to Ulfric." Yang answered for Jaune again, still refusing to look at Serana.

Serana blinked, not having expected that answer, and she asked: "Empire? What... what empire?"

Yang blinked in surprise, and stared at Serana, studying her expression to make sure she wasn't playing some elaborate and subtle joke on her. But Serana's expression was one of genuine confusion, which only puzzled her further. She looked at Jaune, who shrugged back, clearly having no idea what was going on. Finally, she slowly answered her: " _The_... Empire. From Cyrodiil."

"Cyrodiil is the seat of an empire?" Serana asked, as if she was unable to comprehend the very notion. Yang, meanwhile couldn't imagine a world where Cyrodiil _wasn't_ the seat of the Empire, even after the Great War. "I must have been gone longer than I thought. Definitely longer than we planned. Please, let's hurry. I need to get home so I can figure out what's happened."

As Serana sped up, taking the lead, Yang held back slightly, so that she was next to Jaune. Eyeing Serana's back suspiciously, she murmured: "I don't trust her. Cyrodiil's been the heart of the empire for over half a thousand years..."

"Maybe she's been there for over half a thousand years?" Jaune asked easily, even though he could scarcely comprehend the concept himself. Even the Great War, less than a hundred years before he'd been born, felt like ancient history to him. "Look, Yang, the vampires clearly already knew where she was. At least this way, with us bringing her to where she wants to go, we can still learn more about what exactly is going on, right?"

"I don't like this..." Yang admitted softly.

"Hey, what's the worst that could happen?" Jaune asked, rubbing her back soothingly.

**-CASTLE VOLKIHAR, ONE DAY LATER-**

"My long-lost daughter returns at last." The Vampire Lord at the head of the dining hall boomed in delight, as he got up to see who had interrupted his feast. "I trust you have _my_ Elder Scroll?"

"After all these years, that's the first thing you ask me?" Serana spat back, rolling her eyes, before answering with clear disinterest: "Yes, I have the scroll."

"Of course I'm delighted to see you, my daughter. Must I really say the words aloud?" The Lord asked, and Serana and her companions fought the urge to answer with a resounding affirmation. "Ah, if only your traitor mother were here, I would let her watch this reunion before putting her head on a spike. Now tell me, who are these strangers you have brought into our hall?"

As the entire room of vampires and death hounds looked up past Serana towards her guests, Jaune and Yang fought to keep their composure, in the face of so many hungry gazes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to do a quick time skip because, well... this story may be more detailed than TWOA, but there's a limit to how interesting I could make a quiet and routine journey. Rolling random encounters breaks monotony in-game, but in writing, there's only so many variations of "Yang and Jaune beat up bandits and wildlife". Sure, I could have made the Windhelm bit into it's own chapter, but it'd have been a short chapter.
> 
> I have no idea where Death Hounds come from; there is absolutely nothing in lore, save for a throwaway line (how they came to be is unknown), which isn't really that helpful. But enough similarities between them and Grimm, I'd say, that Jaune can be suspicious. The idea of Grimm invading Skyrim would also scare Yang, since everybody remembers the last major interdimensional invasion.
> 
> And yes, I also skipped through most of the dungeon because... well... once again, I only have so many ways of describing killing a vampire. It'd become gratuitous if I kept at it for too long, and I do still have more chapters to go through.
> 
> While, in the base game, you have to solve the brazier puzzle yourself... in this story, why would Yang and Jaune bother moving braziers around? They were just investigating the vampire attack, not searching for treasure. Also, I doubt the vampires were really so incompetent they couldn't figure out the puzzle themselves. Hence why I changed it so that the vampires solved it before they were attacked from behind by Jaune and Yang.
> 
> And no, I also don't know why the person who put Serana in there in the first place didn't put any defences around the sarcophagus. My personal theory (that I came up with when writing this chapter; I didn't think too hard about it when I wrote my original Skyrim story, I must admit) is that a) she knew that setting up more powerful defences would mean the defences would be more easily detected, and Harkon would certainly have no qualms about throwing away his minions to get to Serana, b) she figured that it just being any old Skyrim tomb, complete with the usual draugr and traps, would be more than enough to deter most people who got curious or lucky , and c) she probably didn't intend on getting locked away herself for as long as she did. Of course, I haven't found anything to support or shoot down my theory in the five minutes since I've thought of it, so I'm just going write this story with that in mind. Not like it changes anything, admittedly.
> 
> As for why Yang so heavily mistrusts Serana... why would anyone in Skyrim trust a vampire? Sure, vampires are the tragic result of a disease that gives them an unquenchable thirst for blood, perhaps, but from the viewpoint of the average person they're monsters in the night who've given up on their humanity to prey on humanity. An ancient vampire, though? Imagine the atrocities he must have committed, to survive that long. And now you've got a vampire, sealed in an ancient tomb for gods-know-how-long, a vampire so important that an army of vampires came out of hiding and stormed the Hall of the Vigilants just to get to. The safer and more pragmatic option would be to simply kill the vampire, rather than risk letting the others get their hands on her.
> 
> From Serana's perspective, of course she's going to warm up to Jaune faster than Yang (or anybody she's ever met)! He's probably the only person in 700 years to treat her like an actual person, rather than a tool, a bargaining chip, or an undead blood-sucking monster. He's naive and idealistic, but also honest and earnest enough that she probably can't help but relax around him.
> 
> Which, of course, only pisses Yang off, since she's already suspicious of Serana to begin with (and vampires are known to be excellent in the art of seduction). Jealous? Her? Why would she be jealous? It's not like Jaune didn't react to her casual flirting during their journey or anything.
> 
> As for Jaune? He does point out, pretty fairly, that she could have tried to kill him when she had the chance, but didn't, and she is their best bet in finding out the reason behind the vampire attack. Also, once he hears her out, he does want to give her a chance, if only because he's trying to be a hero and a gentleman as anything else. How many men, in that scenario, wouldn't do the same?


	10. Can't Swing A Cat Without Hitting A Quest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use 700 years as the rough estimate of Serana's and Harkon's age because the last time Cyrodiil wasn't the heart of the Empire was in the ~400 years between the events of Elder Scrolls Online and Tiber Septim's rise to power (2E 582 - 2E 896. For reference, the Third Era lasted 433 years, and Skyrim is set in 4E 201). Of course, some generations would have had to pass after the Empire collapsed for people to forget that Cyrodiil had been the heart of the Empire. The next-oldest period of time where Cyrodiil wasn't the heart of an Empire was before 1E 242 and the rise of Saint Alessia. For reference, the First Era lasted 2920 years, which would have made Harkon and Serana well over 4200 years old. Personally, I lean towards the former explanation, as Serana calls recognizes the province's name as Cyrodiil, rather than calling it by its name in the First Era of Cyrod.
> 
> Of course, it's possible that he ruled during the Dragon Break known as the Middle Dawn, a ~1008 year period in the First Era, caused when a fanatical sect of the state religion tried to edit out aspects of Akatosh (the Chief Deity of the pantheon) that they didn't like, namely his connection to the Elven Time-God Auriel. It made time so unstable that, and I quote here, "(m)ore unorthodox accounts make claims that the sun had changed color, that people birthed their own parents, that gods walked amongst mortals, that the Empire spread its reaches into the stars, and even stating that Cyrodiil became an egg". Just to demonstrate just how utterly insane of a mindfuck it was, even the Elder Scrolls refuse to (or can't) look at it.

It took all the willpower Jaune and Yang could muster, in the face of so many hungry gazes, to fight down their fight-or-flight instincts. It helped that they didn't exactly have a choice besides standing their ground; the front door was too far behind, and they'd be swarmed if they showed any signs of weakness.

Fortunately, before anything could happen, Serana spoke up quickly in defense of the pair: "These are my saviors, the ones who freed me."

Serana's father nodded at the two humans, and declared: "For my daughter's safe return, you have my gratitude. Now, step forward."

Yang and Jaune exchanged a look, and Serana nodded at them in encouragement. Yang stepped forward first, ignoring the disappointment emanating from the court of vampires around them, and stared the crowd down. Jaune followed swiftly after, refusing to let her face them alone.

The head vampire looked them over, and announced: "Well, well, well... Yang Xiao-Long, Whiterun's newest Thane and the rumored Dragonborn. And Jaune Arc, her crusader Housecarl. I must admit, this _is_ a surprise; the last my court heard of you two, Windhelm had just kicked you out..."

If Jaune wasn't preoccupied in not losing a staring contest with a herd of Goliaths, he'd have groaned in exasperation at the remark. He hadn't _meant_ to harm the drunkard, but the fool had ignored his warnings and broken his arms punching his Aura! And how was he supposed to know that the guy harassing elves at two in the morning had been the brother of the Rebellion's general?! He'd just seen a bully, and stepped in...

"Well, what do we care about what the _chattel_ think?" Serana's father asked rhetorically, approval coloring his tone, and Jaune shuddered. It was like watching _something_ pretending to be human; sure, it might know intellectually what to say, but the emotions, the intent, the tone... everything was just _off_. In front of him, Yang's jaw hardened, but before she could speak, the vampire continued: "I am Harkon, lord of this court. By now, my daughter will have told you what we are."

"You're vampires." It wasn't a question.

"Not _just_ vampires. We are among the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim." Harkon boasted, his hand sweeping around the hall grandiosely. Yang gave Jaune a quick side glance out of the corner of her eye, as the court preened and sneered, reminding him that they were only here, without backup, on an island with _the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim_ , because of _him_. "For centuries we lived here, far from the cares of the world. All that ended when my wife betrayed me and stole away that which I valued most."

Yang could guess they weren't getting the full story. Not that Harkon's body language or tone betrayed anything; she just didn't trust the objectivity of an arrogant narcissistic immortal undead. Jaune saw Yang's arms tense subtly, and let his hand fall to his sheath as casually as he could, as he quietly asked her: "What happens now?"

He hadn't known just how sharp the vampire lord's hearing was, but apparently Harkon thought the question was directed at him, and he answered: "You have done me a great service, and now you must be rewarded. There is but one gift I can give that is equal in value to the Elder Scroll and my daughter. I offer you my blood. Take it, and you will walk as a lion among sheep. Men will tremble at your approach, and you will never fear death again."

As Jaune expected, Yang barely gave it a thought, and asked without hesitation: "And if we refuse your gift?"

Harkon was less pleased with her reply, and his voice echoed throughout the hall as he decreed: "Then you will be _prey_ , like all mortals. I will spare your lives this once, but you will be banished from this hall."

Jaune allowed himself to relax as much as he could without melting into a puddle of sheer relief. Sure, they would have rejected being turned into bloodthirsty monsters of the night on principle alone (also because they didn't want to be anywhere near the hall when the court eventually found out that Yang and Jaune had killed the group of vampires who'd initially tried to retrieve Serana), but at least they wouldn't have to fight their way out of the hall in a suicidal last-ditch effort, based on how things were going

Harkon was displeased that his warning lacked the intended reaction, and he asked: "Perhaps you still need convincing?"

The hall seemed to darken, as the shadows wrapped themselves around his body. Harkon doubled over, shaking, and Jaune was reminded of nature documentaries (and sci-fi horror movies), of an egg hatching, or a parasite bursting free of its host. Finally, after a few moments, the cocoon burst open in a wave of shadows and red mists, and revealing a large, grey, winged bat-like humanoid.

"Behold! The power!" The creature boomed, in Harkon's voice, and the castle rumbled as it spread it's wings wide and gathered magic into it's claws. " _This_ is the power that I offer! Now, make your choice!"

Jaune could see the fear and surprise creep into Yang's eyes, and that _terrified_ him. Yang hadn't been _scared_ when she'd jumped unto the dragon's head, and she hadn't been _scared_ when she'd charged into the vampires in the tomb. But _this_... this was _beyond_ anything they'd expected.

But _Jaune_ had faced down sudden disaster, overwhelming power, and hopeless situations before. He was used to being terrified, being scared out of his wits. Taking a step forward, he stared the creature in its eyes, and firmly answered: "We refuse. We don't want to become vampires."

Gasps rose from the crowd, and Serana's face was filled with worry, but Jaune stood resolutely in front of Yang, refusing to break eye contact.

"Does he speak for both of you?" The creature asked, voice dangerously calm and quiet.

"He does, so stop asking." Yang replied in a steady voice, stepping forward as well, and side by side they glared at it.

For a moment, none dared breathe (not that the vampires needed to), and a small voice at the back of Jaune's head wondered if Harkon would go back on his word, and strike them down for such blatant defiance.

"So be it." The moment finally passed, as the creature conceded. But they could tell the slight would never be forgiven or forgotten, when it declared: "You _are_ prey, like all mortals. I banish you!"

Harkon waved his hand at the pair, and a black orb flew towards the pair before they could react.

As darkness engulfed Jaune and Yang, they instinctively flinched, and swiftly reached for their weapons. As quickly as it'd begun, however, the darkness faded away, revealing to the pair that their surroundings had changed. Where they'd been in a regal and sinister court mere moments earlier, they found themselves standing alone on a simple wooden pier, facing the quietly lapping waves, the same pier they'd left hours before, in search of the vampires' island.

Jaune regained his voice first: "... please don't say it."

"Say what?" Yang asked, voice unusually high-pitched.

"Don't say it." Jaune groaned, still trying to process just what he'd seen.

"I wasn't about to say anything." Yang's tone was unnaturally full of levity, and Jaune winced. "I certainly wasn't about to mention that your naivety gave the vampires exactly what they wanted, or that the situation is far worse than any worst-case scenarios!"

"... I'm sure it's not that bad..." Jaune weakly tried to defend himself.

"You're right, Vomit Boy! It's not "that bad", oh no. It's _much worse_." Yang shot back. "The vampires have an _Elder Scroll_."

"What _is_ an Elder Scroll, anyway?" Jaune asked, scarcely comprehending the severity of the situation. Sure, he knew it couldn't be good, but he didn't know whether this was a "Nora's out of pancakes" emergency, a "Nora's found the caffeine" crisis, or a "Breach/Vytal Festival" disaster.

Yang fixed him with a look, and explaining: "Elder Scrolls are... nobody really knows _what_ they are, but they're weird and powerful artifacts..."

"How weird and powerful?"

"Weird in that, every time the Moth Priests, the cult dedicated to studying the Elder Scrolls, tries to count them or write down their location, they tend to vanish, multiply, or disappear without any rhyme or reason. And powerful in that their simplest use is as a reflection of every _possible_ past and future. Most go mad trying to read them, but I think the vampires don't have to worry too much about that one."

"That... doesn't sound that bad..." Jaune admitted. "I mean sure, it sounds really bad, but I was expecting something more like a spell that could blow up a continent."

Yang sighed, and gave him the example she'd been given, when the subject had come up in her youth: "Vomit Boy, I'm probably understating it when I say "every possible past and future _"_. If they wanted to find the future where they, I don't know, took over the world or something, _they could do that_!"

Jaune blanched, as Yang's words hammered the implications into him. If they could read the scroll, use it in the way she'd described, they'd be unstoppable in achieving their goals! And while Jaune didn't know what their goals were, he doubted it was anything good for him or the people of Skyrim. In a trembling voice, he yelped: "What do we do?! We have to stop them!"

"We can't just row to the island and ask for the scroll." Yang retorted, only half-jokingly. Honestly, it had about as much chance of working as a direct assault by the pair, and would have probably been less dangerous to boot. And sneaking in was right out; a small boat _might_ be able to make it to shore without raising any alarms thanks to the fog the Sea of Ghosts was so infamous for (if it didn't get lost itself or crash against the rocks), but she doubted even the legendary Grey Fox could evade the supernatural senses of the oldest and most powerful vampires in Skyrim.

"Well, what if we try a naval blockade or something?" Jaune suggested, trying to remember what he could of Doctor Oobleck's history lessons. "Does Skyrim have a navy?"

Yang briefly thought about it, but quickly rejected the idea: "Skyrim doesn't have a navy; it... used to be protected by the Imperial Navy, but even if there wasn't an ongoing rebellion, the Sea of Ghosts is too dangerous for a fleet to navigate. Even the legendary Ysgramor lost many men, during the Return."

"... what about the guards?" Jaune was getting desperate, grasping at straws.

Yang humored him by making a show of pondering for a second: "Hmmm... nope. We _could_ report it to them, sure, but we have no proof, and even if they believed us... you saw the fortress and the creatures that hold court within it. The most they'd be able to do is prepare for a vampire attack, not stop whatever plans they have."

"The Companions?"

"That's... honestly not a bad idea. They'd relish the fight, to be sure..." Yang conceded, before shaking her head, as they began the journey back to civilization. They'd passed by Solitude the day before, but between her record at Helgen, being in the company of a vampire, and wanting to deliver Serana to her location (and be free of her presence) as fast as possible, they'd decided to bypass the city. After what she'd just been through, though? Even a prison cell sounded nice and comfortable. "Once again, though, the problem is that there just isn't enough of them."

"Who else can we call?" Jaune asked, as they reached a dirt road. "I mean, I don't think Skyrim's just got an order of vampire slayers lying around... right?"

"By the Divines, I wish." Yang laughed, only slightly hysterically. The joke was horrible, but she just couldn't help herself. Then her mood grew somber, as she remembered just how they'd discovered this entire conspiracy: "Truth be told, the only other group I can think of that might help, would've been the Vigilants of Stendarr. But... well..."

"I guess that must have been why they were attacked first." Jaune theorized, as the dirt path gave way to a stone pavement.

"Perhaps..." Yang murmured in agreement, before peering ahead. The sight of torches this close to Solitude gave her comfort, and she said: "Come on, I see some guards ahead."

"I thought you said it'd be useless."

"They deserve some warning anyway, if only so they can make preparations to protect the city."

"Travelers." The guards acknowledged the pair with a nod as they approached, and Yang let loose a sigh of relief. By the looks of things, Hadvar had gotten back to Solitude, and put a good word in for her. "Is there something we can help you with?"

"We came across a nest of vampires." Yang dropped the bombshell so casually, the guards could only stare at her, trying to process what she'd just said. Behind her, Jaune groaned into his palm, wondering if there were any Yang Xiao-Longs that had ever heard of concepts like "delicacy" and "tact".

"Vampires? Are you sure?" To his credit, the guard they were talking to did seem to take their claims seriously.

"They had fangs and were drinking a person's blood." Yang said drily, remembering the feasting court. _Technically_ , she wasn't lying yet. "They're either vampires or a crazy cannibal cult."

The patrol looked at each other nervously, hands reaching for the comfort of their weapons. The guard captain leading them cleared his throat and looked sternly at them, reasserting discipline among his squad, before looking back at the pair of blondes in front of him. Certainly, they looked like they'd been in a scrap; either they were telling the truth, or they'd lost an argument with a very angry cave troll. And the report was concerning enough that they couldn't help but take it seriously; it would have been too dangerous to assume that there weren't any vampires. Needing details, he pressed them: "Where were they? And what were they doing?"

"They were somewhere along the coast to the north... we saw them boarding a boat, though..." Still technically not a lie; they could indeed confirm that a vampire had taken a boat to Castle Volkihar recently. The fact that they'd been the ones to bring Serana there was conveniently left out by Yang, though.

"We'll pass the message to the Jarl." The guard nodded at the pair, before following up with: "But in return, could you do us a favor?"

Yang's suspicions flared up, but Jaune's ears had perked up first, and he responded: "Sure! What do you need?"

"Well, we were on the way to investigate a nearby cave, by order of the Jarl. It's probably nothing, but the nearby village has been complaining of strange noises and lights. Nowhere near as serious as a nest of vampires, of course, but we still need to do our job..."

"Sure, we'll check it out. Where is it?"

"Just follow the path up the mountain, and report your findings to the Jarl's steward when you're done."

"Vomit Boy..." Yang growled, in an exasperated tone, once all the guards were safely out of earshot.

"What?"

"Are you _really_ going to make us do the guards' jobs?" Yang asked rhetorically, enviously picturing the patrol relaxing by a fireplace, having successfully shirked their duties off onto a man with far too little common sense.

"I mean... fair's fair, right?" Jaune asked, before wincing as a pointed look was the only response he was given. "Come on, what's wrong with helping the guards and a village?"

"Vomit Boy, we'll be checking out a cave for strange lights and noises. It'll probably just be poachers or a bunch of randy youths." Yang explained bluntly. "Compared to getting the horn, and figuring out what to do about the vampires and their Elder Scroll, it's nowhere near as important."

Jaune looked down, unable to refute her point. Part of the lessons Beacon had taught him about being a leader was prioritization, and looking at the big picture. His teammates could focus on what was in front of them, because it was meant to be his job to think about the consequences.

But at the same time, there wasn't anything else they could reasonably do here, and the people had asked for help. He was foolish, any questions about that had been answered when he'd gone up that tower, but he'd clung on to that dream, the ideal of heroism that his parents had imparted to him via bedtime stories. It'd been that motivation, living up to his family name and helping others, that had driven him to run away from Beacon, to endure everything Cardin had thrown at him, to endure being the _worst_ student in Beacon. And now, when given the chance to help someone...

Jaune shook his head, and weakly tried: "I mean... it's just a short detour, right? We've already warned the city, and it wasn't like we were going to just find vampire hunters recruiting here, right?"

Yang fixed him with a look, before nodding in satisfaction when he squirmed. At least he _knew_ he was being foolish, at least this time he'd thought things through, even if he decided to stick to his principles anyway. Perhaps there was a true Nord in there somewhere. She could certainly respect that, even if she'd give him grief for it. Looking away from him to hide her grin, she begin walking. When he didn't follow, she shouted at her confused friend: "Well, come on, Vomit Boy! What're you waiting for?!"

Jaune stared at her, speechless.

Yang didn't bother looking back; she could just picture his expression: "Hey, you already told the guards you'd do it. And-"

"And an Arc never goes back on his word." Jaune quoted with pride, as he always did. As he made to follow her, he quietly added: "Thanks, Yang."

"I'll just put it on your tab." Yang joked back. "Now, let's go walk around an empty cave for a few minutes."

**-THE BLUE PALACE, THREE HOURS LATER-**

"Ah, you must be the travelers who agreed to help Captain Aldis with the investigation." Falk Firebeard, Steward of the Jarl of Solitude Elisif the Fair, said, as he spotted the pair of blondes walk into the palace. He'd been given a rough description of their appearance by the overworked guards, along with their very-worrying report that a nest of vampires had been established; politeness was the bare minimum he could offer the two. "Thank you for your service, and for your warning about the vampires. Whatever they're planning, I can assure you, Solitude will be ready. Now, what did you find at Wolfskull Cave?"

"Some necromancers were attempting to summon and bind _Potema_." Yang said bluntly, once again deciding that delicacy was overrated.

She'd been expecting, at _worst_ , a few youths or a pack of wolves, not a coven of necromancers and a small army of undead, and _definitely_ not the sheer sinister... presence of the _thing_ they'd summoned. The only reason she'd been able to withstand the energies being released had been because she'd faced down such raw malice and power before, when Harkon had discarded his human shell and revealed his true form, and the exertions of the day had left her all but drained.

"Potema herself?" The color drained from Falk's face at the name of the Wolf Queen, one of SKyrim's most notable and unambiguously evil necromancers. "Please tell me you stopped them."

Yang remembered the mad dash she and Jaune had engaged in, once she heard just who they were summoning. The aura of malice had been almost tangible, as the spirit had raged against the wards they'd set up to bind her, but between her experience and Jaune's Aura, she'd been able to push through the mental assault and the undead army, before finally overpowering and massacring the necromancers.

Jaune had followed her lead, trusting her, even though she hadn't had time to explain, just like in the cave they'd found Serana in. She knew of his reluctance to kill, his distaste for violence; she'd comforted him during the journey from Windhelm to the Hall, when he'd been forced to kill an Orc Berserker who'd refused to stay down. While he'd been slowly growing to accept the unfortunate necessity of killing, he still shied away from it whenever possible. In the end, he'd been the one to destroy the ritual's circle, standing firm in the face of the escaping energies...

Yang shook her head, bringing herself out of her memories, and spared a glance for her quiet companion in the corner. He still didn't want to interact with Skyrim's upper society, even though she'd tried to reassure him that, as her Housecarl, a lot of gaffes would be overlooked. A beggar approached him, presumably to ask for change. Privately, Yang thanked the Divines; better that he be occupied with a simple act of charity, rather than stewing on the lives he'd been forced to take once again. Turning back to Falk, she decided to spare him the details: "We interrupted their ritual. It's done."

"You've done a larger service to the realm than you could possibly know. A resurrected Potema... I shudder at the thought." Falk told Yang as he pulled out a coin pouch with a thousand septims. He'd meant every word he'd said, a rarity for a politician. Even 500 years after her death, historians still talked in hushed tones about how Potema had plunged the Empire into Civil War, leading Skyrim against Cyrodiil, and especially how, when she'd been losing the fight, had made pacts with the daedra, and had necromancers resurrect her fallen enemies, to fight for her even in death.

"Anyone who know their history would, steward." Yang replied easily, having had the same reaction. Grabbing the proffered coin pouch, she made to leave, but Falk gripped her hand, pulled her in, and whispered: "Regarding the vampire nest... all of our men are busy with the war effort. But some of the guards have been talking... apparently, they're reforming the Dawnguard, a historical order of vampire hunters, in the old fort near Riften. If you could talk to them, convince them to clear it out..."

Yang hid her smile; this was _exactly_ what she needed, and she wasn't used to things just working out like _that_. Instead, she asked: "Why the secrecy?"

"The walls have ears." Falk responded grimly. "Oh, I don't think they'd sell us out to _vampires_ , of course, but I do have some enemies, who'd happily use any crisis and emergency to get rid of me."

She nodded in understanding, before flashing him a grin, and saying: "We'll talk payment after, alright?"

Before Falk could answer, Jaune approached the two, much to their surprise. To their even greater surprise, he was carrying what appeared to be a hip bone. All of that paled in comparison to the next words out of his mouth: "Hey, anyone know where the Pelagius Wing is?"

Falk and Yang both winced, but Yang found her voice first, and she hissed at him: "Jaune... why do you even know that name?"

"Well, this guy approached me just now, and asked if I could help him..." Jaune began innocently. "And he told me that his master has been on vacation for years in the Pelgaius Wing, and that his realm needed him."

The two natives of Tamriel exchanged a look. Falk finally answered, after a very pregnant pause: "That's impossible. That wing has been sealed for hundreds of years, and for good reason. They say the ghost of Pelagius the Mad still haunts it."

Jaune's eyes widened comically, and he began looking around, as if he'd spot the ectoplasmic remnant of the former Emperor.

"... maybe we should quickly search the wing? Just to be sure?" Yang suggested. "Potema and now Pelagius... hard to believe it's all coincidental..."

Falk sighed, and handed her a key and a handful of coins, before giving the pair strict instructions: "Do not bring anything out when you leave. Too many dark deeds transpired in those halls..."

The pair nodded their affirmations, and headed towards the indicated wing. As they unlocked the rusty door, Jaune asked: "... you sure we should be doing this? He said it could be haunted..."

"Well, didn't you give your word to the beggar that you'd help him?" Yang asked in a sickeningly-sweet voice. "And an Arc-"

"An Arc never goes back on his word." Jaune groaned. "Dang it, Yang!"

"Maybe next time, you won't accept every request that comes your way."

"How was I supposed to know that the Pelagius Wing was haunted and had been locked up for hundreds of years?! I thought he was just some eccentric noble!"

"You could have _asked_ me!"

"... so, ghosts are real here, too?"

"You've fought dragons, vampires, skeletons, and draugr. Why should you be surprised that ghosts are real, too?" Yang asked him rhetorically, before remembering what she'd wanted to tell him. "By the way, speaking of vampires..."

"I know, I know, I messed up on that one too!"

"You did, but that's besides the point. The steward gave me some information; apparently, there's an order of vampire hunters gathering to the south."

"... that's... awfully convenient..." Jaune murmured. "What if it's a trap? A way to lure all aspiring vampire hunters together, before getting rid of them in one fell swoop?"

"That's... definitely a possibility." Yang had to remind herself that, for all his innocence, Vomit Boy certainly showed flashes of strategic and tactical brilliance. "But its also our best bet, in getting the Elder Scroll back from the vampires. I say we check it out, but be on our guard."

"What about the horn?" Jaune reminded her.

"The horn's not going anywhere, and if the vampires succeed in whatever they're planning on doing, a fake Dragonborn with delusions of grandeur will probably be the least of our problems." Yang pointed out (unaware of just how wrong she was on both counts). Then she grinned, and added: "Besides, _this_ , coming from you?"

Jaune flushed, and defended himself: "Come on! The cave was supposed to be a simple investigation! Like this!"

"... that doesn't fill me with confidence, Vomit Boy."

"Oh, come on, we're still in the Palace, right?" Jaune asked. "It definitely can't be _that_ bad..."

**-THE MIND OF PELGAIUS III SEPTIM "THE MAD", FIVE MINUTES LATER-**

" **You can call me Ann Marie. But only if you're partial to being flayed alive and having an angry immortal skip rope with your entrails."** The white-haired man in the well-tailored suit declared loudly at the pair, as they still tried to figure out where they were. Then his voice softened to a gentle whisper, and he instructed them: **"If not... Then call me Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of Madness. Charmed.** "

"Daedric Prince?!"

" **Of Madness. You know, you remind me of myself at a young age. All I cared about was riding narwhales and sleeping in honeycombs and drinking babies' tears... Word of advice if you ride a Narwhale. Mind the pointy end.** "

"... Yang?"

"Yes, Vomit Boy?"

"What the hell is wrong with Skyrim?!"

"I don't know, Vomit Boy. I really don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harkon's a lot less... charismatic, in this story, than would be expected of a vampire lord. But then again, he's spent easily 700 years in seclusion on an island treating mortals like cattle. Why would he be able to relate to the modern day mortal? Also, in the game he asks for the Dragonborn's name. Here, I'm changing it so that he can recognize them, if only because... well... they're an ancient clan of vampires. Intelligence gathering should be a survival reflex for them. And the Dragonborn isn't exactly a nobody.
> 
> I know people may have wanted him to be a paladin, or a knight, but the "Crusader" is an actual class in Oblivion, and to quote it's description, is "a combatant who wields the power of brute strength and medicinal knowledge. Cheating death after every fight, they rely on their keen knowledge of restoration to fight yet again". Close enough to Jaune, I'd say.
> 
> To clarify Yang respecting his foolishness; she's pleased that he's aware of the fact that his actions are foolish. She'd have a problem with naivety, with Jaune jumping headfirst into suicidal situations without thinking them through, just expecting that nothing would go wrong (the impression she had of him when he jumped into a bandit camp full of murderers without being prepared to kill, even in self-defense). But him thinking things through (especially when compared to trusting Serana and delivering the Elder Scroll to Harkon on a silver platter), knowing that they could backfire, taking reasonable precautions, and still choosing the unnecessarily hard path? She's a Nord; traditions and principles (though none we'd recognize as actual morals) over common sense are practically a stereotype!


	11. Finally Making Progress

" **Feel free to keep the Wabbajack. As a symbol of my... Oh, just take the damn thing.** " Sheogorath boomed in a tone he clearly considered magnanimous at the pair, even as Jaune desperately tried returning the staff to its (former) master. Waving away any protests the pair could have made, he gestured at them, and cheerfully added: " **You take care of yourself, now. And if you ever find yourself up in New Sheoth, do look me up. We can share a strawberry torte. Ta ta!** "

An unpleasantly familiar darkness engulfed the pair, and they didn't bother reaching for their weapons this time. Not that they could have harmed him, anyway. As the darkness faded, they found themselves back in the dusty palace, just at it'd been when they'd entered.

They didn't bother deluding themselves into thinking it was a dream, though. The sinister black staff, crowned by a ring of three screaming faces, was still in Jaune's hand.

"So... _that_ was a Daedric Prince..." Jaune murmured, trying to come to terms with the events of the day. In less than 24 hours, he'd stared down the true form of a vampire lord, learned that there was an ancient vampiric conspiracy that now had access to unlimited knowledge ( _thanks to him_ ), faced down the ghost of the frontrunner for Skyrim's Worst High King/Queen, and had just met Sheogorath in all his unholy (and mad) glory. "Well... he seemed... eccentric."

"Oh, for one of the Daedric Princes, he's positively charming and friendly." Yang shrugged, even as she yanked the staff out of his hand, and tossed it under the moth-eaten bed. She knew Daedric artifacts could be _clingy_ , but she hoped Sheogorath wouldn't take offense to it. Then again... "That's like saying that he's well-mannered and soft-spoken for a dragon, though..."

"You sure it's safe to just leave it there, where anyone can find it?" Jaune asked, concerned. The creepy staff had been _whispering_ to him, and he didn't want anything more to do with it, but at the same time, he didn't want to just leave it lying where someone might accidentally pick it up.

"I'll tell Falk it's not safe, and he'll lock the wing back up. Hopefully for the next few hundred years." Yang shrugged. "Trust me, you do not want to hold on to it for too long. They say it's what made Pelagius the Mad... well... _mad_."

"Pelagius the Mad... that's the guy whose mind we "treated", right?" Jaune recalled the sudden feeling of being jerked in a nameless direction, as darkness had engulfed them, before Sheogorath had them running around what he'd told them was the mind of the dead Pelagius, using the Wabbajack to help him deal with his problems. Yang had initially been enraged, but Jaune had luckily been able to calm her down before she'd tried punching the Mad God. Oh, she'd given him _the_ look for that one; he'd deserved it, too, having unwittingly accepted the quest in the first place, but he was just desperately trying to do _something_ , _anything_ to help people, _anything_ to feel like he was making a difference... _anything_ to feel like less of a screw up.

The staff had really complimented him for that; for the sheer insanity that was letting vampires get their hands on an Elder Scroll, and then trying to make up for it by helping random villages. Like making up for a landslide by digging up a beach with a spoon, it had laughed gleefully. Given his track record, he couldn't really disagree, though he'd still chosen to ignore it's calls to be used as a tool of madness by one as devoted to its patron's craft as he apparently was.

"... you know, I still find it hard to believe that really was his mind." Yang replied non-committally, still trying to come to terms with what she'd seen. Ancient vampire lords with Elder Scrolls and ghosts of rulers past were one thing, but the mind of a madman who'd been dead for five hundred years was still a bit much to her. "Would explain why he did some crazy stuff, like outlawing death on his deathbed, if that was the state of his mind..."

Jaune remained silent, thinking about everything he'd seen Pelagius go through, in his mind. He had to take most of what he saw with a grain of salt, he knew, but the bits of thoughts, emotions, and memories he'd witnessed from the former Emperor had left him reflective. He'd known that Skyrim was harsh, harsher than even Remnant was, but even hearing Yang's stories couldn't compare to watching it play it in someone's head. Not for the first time, he wondered if he _could_ save anyone. Sure, he'd treated a dead man with the artifact of a Daedric Prince, but he doubted that was a common occurrence. Moreover...

Yang noticed his silence, and looked back to see him deep in thought. Guessing what was going through his head, she stepped back, and lightly thumped his shoulder, breaking him out of his funk. As he looked up at her, confused, she asked: "You're still hearing the echoes of it's whispers, aren't you?"

"..."

"The Daedra lie, Vomit Boy. You're better off ignoring everything it said." Yang advised him.

"But what if it wasn't?" Jaune couldn't help but ask. "Can we really make a difference? And would it even matter, in a land this crazy?"

Yang just stared at him, before sighing. "This, coming from _you_? The Wabbajack must really have gotten to you."

"It wasn't just the Wabbajack!" Jaune protested. "Just... what's the point of saving a village if the world's doomed anyway? Especially if I'm the one who doomed it..."

" _Jaune_." Yang snapped. "Look me in the eye. Look me in the eye, and tell me that you think that. Tell me that you think the people you helped didn't matter, that you regret the decisions you've made."

Jaune tried to comply, but as he stared into her lilac eyes, he found the words dying in his throat.

"You regret your mistakes." Yang continued, in a much softer tone. "That the vampires have an Elder Scroll. That your time isn't going to fixing that issue right now. That you can't be in two places at once. But you don't regret actually _helping_ the people who've asked for it."

"... I don't." Jaune confirmed, looking away. "Maybe I wish I did, because then I'd be able to focus on what matters more, but Oum help me, I don't regret helping them."

"I know, Vomit Boy." Yang said with a smile. "And I'm here to remind you about the big picture and make sure you don't get taken advantage of... until you learn to say "no" to people, at least."

"..." Jaune wanted to say he wasn't that bad, but the past day was irrefutable proof, and judging by Yang's massive shit-eating grin, she knew it too. Finally, he sighed, and agreed: "I'll rely on you for that."

"Well, it wasn't _all_ bad." Yang admitted, feeling like she'd kicked a puppy when she saw the look on his face. "I mean, you weren't wrong about us needing information on the vampires, and a resurrected Potema would have been as bad as the vampires. Also, meeting Falk did give us a lead on vampire hunters..."

"So we're really going to this "Dawnguard" next?"

"Well, it's our best bet in getting the Elder Scroll away from the vampires and stopping whatever plans they have."

**-FORT DAWNGUARD, ONE WEEK LATER-**

"Hold it right there!" The dark-skinned warrior with a massive warhammer on his back shouted from the floor above them, and Yang and Jaune eyed the heavily-armored men around them, crossbows pointed in the pair's direction.

"What's this all about?!" Yang demanded angrily, even as Jaune backed up and raised his hands in the air slightly, trying to show they were no threat. Not that they had much of a choice; they were in a small entrance hall with limited cover, they were outnumbered by archers with the high ground, and the gates to the rest of the castle had been raised. A perfect killbox, in other words. Not for the first time, Jaune wondered if this wasn't some elaborate vampire plot; he'd heard all about false flag operations and false resistance movements (in comics and movies). In a pinch, if needed, he could cover Yang, trusting in his Aura to stop the bolts, and while they were reloading Yang could Shout one of the doors down.

Then the dark-skinned warrior pulled a rope, and Jaune had to squint, as the sunlight coming in through roof suddenly intensified. The man nodded to himself, releasing the rope, and as the light fell back to normal levels (and the guards lowered their weapons), he explained: "Making sure you're not vampires. Can't be too careful."

Jaune and Yang nodded, understanding the test now. Presumably, vampires _had_ tried infiltrating the Dawnguard as well. They might have called the man paranoid, but they'd seen Castle Volkihar. At most, they could only call him eccentric.

"So, welcome to Fort Dawnguard. The name's Isran." The dark-skinned warrior continued, introducing himself. "I'm sure you've heard a bit of what we're up against. Powerful vampires, unlike anything we've seen before. _And they had an Elder Scroll_. If anyone is going to stand in their way, it's going to be us."

"How do they know about the Elder Scroll?" Jaune asked Yang, confused. They'd come to warn the Dawnguard about the vampire menace, after all. Yang shrugged, caution growing within her, and she called out: "How do you know they... had an Elder Scroll?"

Isran peered down, unamused with the interruption, but as he glared at the pair, he recalled a person's description of a pair of blondes. A wielder of a frost blade an a unique white metallic heater shield, and a brawler with a large axe. "... are you two Jaune Arc and Yang?"

"We are." Yang confirmed, drawing herself tall.

"A few days ago, a vampire showed up here looking for you." Isran followed up sternly, as the crossbows were pointed at them once more. "Follow me. Let's go have a little chat with it, shall we?"

Isran brought the pair to what Jaune could only describe as a torture chamber, where a familiar-looking raventte was sitting on a medieval rack and glaring at the pair of armed guards watching her cautiously. As he gawked at her, Yang reached for her axe, and snarled: " _You_."

Serana looked towards the newcomers disinterestedly, before visibly perking up as she recognized the two. Jumping to her feet, she ignored the crossbows and Yang's axe, and instead grinned as she approached Jaune, excitedly saying: "I knew I'd find you two here!"

"How?" Jaune asked, concerned, as Yang growled at her as she drew closer. Were their movements being monitored? Were the vampires really running the Dawnguard? If not, what was Serana doing here in Riften, on the other end of the province from her family home, in the company of vampire hunters.

"Well, it was obvious, wasn't it? After what you'd seen in my father's castle, where else would you turn to but vampire hunters? I don't know why Isran kept denying ever seeing you two before, though..." Serana stated proudly, pleased with her logical deductions. Jaune, while happy that they weren't being spied on, didn't have the heart to tell Serana that they'd just gotten here. Then Serana's tone got serious, and she somberly said: "Now, you probably weren't expecting to see me again..."

"You mean, after you tricked him into taking you back to Harkon's court before he banished us?" Yang's tone was colder than a Skyrim winter, and both Jaune and Serana winced.

"I didn't know what was going to happen!" Serana tried defending herself. "If you guys had tried anything, they'd have killed you two! And if I'd spoken up any further for you two, he'd have his steward kill you two in your sleep!"

"What are you doing _here_?" Jaune asked, interrupting their argument before anything could come of it.

""I'd rather not be here either, but I needed to talk to you." Serana admitted, addressing Jaune. "It's important, so please just listen before your friends here lose their patience. It's... well, it's about me. And the Elder Scroll that was buried with me."

"What about you?"

"The reason I was down there... and why I had the Elder Scroll." Serana answered hesitantly. "It all comes back to my father. I'm guessing you figured this part out already, but my father's not exactly a good person. Even by vampire standards. He wasn't always like that, though. There was... a turn. He stumbled onto this obscure prophecy and just kind of lost himself in it."

"What sort of prophecy? And what do you mean... "lost himself"?" Jaune asked, getting closer in fascination. He knew that it was more than likely he wasn't being objective, that he wanted to believe that he hadn't been duped, that he had been right about Serana. He quickly looked back at Yang, searching her eyes, and she rolled her eyes and looked away, but still lowered her axe.

"It's pointless and vague, like all prophecies." Serana spat spitefully, before continuing her explanation: "But there was a part that he latched onto. He just became absorbed... obsessed. It was kind of sick, actually. The prophecy said that vampires would no longer need to fear the sun. For someone who fancied himself as vampire royalty, that's pretty seductive."

"No longer need to fear the sun?" Jaune echoed, mulling over her words. He'd seen enough movies about genies and mystical prophecies to know that the wording had to be exact, or else loopholes could (and probably would) ruin everything. Serana was right; the prophecy was vague. No longer needing to fear the sun could mean anything from vampires somehow extinguishing the sun (which would doom _all_ life on the planet, if plants and the conservation of energy were the same in Tamriel as Remnant; a question he really didn't know the answer to), to vampires losing their vulnerability and weakness to the sun without doing anything to it, to even possibly vampirism being exterminated from all of Tamriel (wouldn't have to worry about the sun if something else wiped them out first).

Judging by the looks on Yang's and Isran's faces, Jaune could guess they were assuming the worst.

Serana nodded, and added: "Anyway, my mother and I didn't feel like inviting a war with all of Tamriel, so we tried to stop him. That's why I was sealed away with the Scroll."

"So that's why Harkon was looking for you..." Jaune murmured in understanding.

Yang, however, raised an eyebrow and asked: "Then _why_ did you ask us to take you _to_ Harkon when we found you?!"

"I... I'd been sealed away for hundreds of years, at least." Serana admitted. "I needed to get my bearings back, and it was the first place I could think of. I needed to know... to know if my father was still around. If he'd... if he'd changed in my absence."

Yang scoffed and looked away, while Isran muttered something under his breath about bloodsuckers. Jaune could understand, though. She was just a daughter who wanted to believe her father could change for the better. One thing puzzled him, though, and he pointed to the massive scroll on her back, and asked: "Harkon went through all that effort looking for you, right? So _how_ did you just walk away with the scroll?"

"Well... when I realized he was still... himself... I escaped." Serana explained.

"You just escaped? Just like that?" Isran asked, skeptically.

"From a fortress on an island in the middle of the Sea of Ghosts?" Yang pointed out drily.

"It's a lot easier when you don't breathe or feel cold." Serana stated matter-of-factly, flashing a fang-filled grin at the pair.

"You took a big risk coming _here_." Jaune chided her, wondering just what kind of adventure she'd had, escaping from her father and finding herself with an order of vampire hunters.

"I did." Serana agreed, looking directly into Jaune's eyes pleadingly. "But something about you makes me think I can trust you. I hope I'm not wrong. Now come on, I'll need you to help convince them."

"Okay, that's enough." Yang interrupted, gripping Jaune by the arm. "Come here for a minute, Vomit Boy."

"All right, we've heard what it has to say." Isran began, as Yang dragged Jaune to the Dawnguard's leader. "Now tell me, is there any reason I shouldn't kill this bloodsucking fiend right now?"

Jaune gawked at Isran's brutal pragmatism, and looked to Yang. When she didn't speak up, he tried to defend the vampire: "Look, she knows more about what the vampires are up to than anyone else. We could use her help with this."

"Why, because of that story about the prophecy? About some vampire trying to put the sun out?" Isran scoffed disbelievingly. "Do you _actually_ believe any of that?"

"She did risk her life to come here..." Yang reluctantly pointed out with a frown.

"Maybe it has a death wish. Maybe it's just insane. I don't really care." Isran shot back, though it was clear that Yang's words had gotten through to him. He looked like he was chewing a particularly sour lemon, before he explosively sighed. Turning to Jaune, he snapped; "It can stay for now, but if it so much as lays a finger on anyone here, I'll hold you responsible. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Jaune nervously responded, before gulping as Isran growled at him about this not being the army.

"You hear me?" Isran suddenly barked at Serana, guessing that she'd been eavesdropping with her superhuman senses. The lack of surprise on Serana's face only confirmed his suspicions. "Don't feel like a guest, because you're not. You're a resource. You're an asset. In the meantime, don't make me regret my sudden outburst of tolerance and generosity, because if you do, your friend here is going to pay for it."

"Thank you for your kindness. I'll remember it the next time I'm feeling hungry." Serana rolled her eyes sarcastically, before turning back to Jaune and Yang, and adopting a far warmer tone: "Thanks for vouching for me."

"Pull any more stunts like the one in Castle Volkihar and I _will_ chop your head off." Yang growled.

"So, Serana, I assume you have _some_ ideas?" Jaune asked, deciding to assume that Serana, a centuries-old vampire who had spent most of that time hiding from her father, had developed at least some contingencies for stopping Harkon (or at least given more thought to it than they had).

"As you've noticed, I have the Elder Scroll with me." Serana replied, gesturing to her back. "Whatever it says, it will have something that can help us stop my father. But of course, neither of us can read it."

Jaune exchanged a look with Yang, before asking: "Who can?"

"Well, the Moth Priests are the only ones I've heard of who can do it. They spend years preparing before they start reading, though. Not that it helps us anyway, because they're half a continent away in Cyrodiil."

"Hey, if the only people who could read it aren't in Skyrim, doesn't that mean Harkon can't carry out his prophecy?" Jaune pointed out.

"He's got a point there..." Yang agreed with her companion. "Now that we know he can't read the scroll any time soon, we can use this time to come up with plans to take him down."

"Some Imperial scholar arrived in Skyrim a few days ago." Isran torpedoed their train of thought with his blunt statement, and as they turned to look at him, he explained mater-of-factly: "I was staking out the road when I saw him pass by. Maybe that's your Moth Priest."

"Of course! My father must have arranged for a Moth Priest to come to Skyrim as soon as he heard I'd been found!" Serana said, snapping her fingers as the realization hit her. "Do you know where he's staying now?"

"No, and I'm not going to waste men looking." Isran said, with all the subtlety of his warhammer. "We're fighting a war against your kind, and I intend to win it. You want to find him, try talking to anyone who'd meet a traveler. Innkeepers and carriage drivers in the big cities maybe. But you're on your own."

Serana rolled her eyes at him, before grabbing Jaune's arm, and declaring: "You heard the vampire hunter, Jaune. Let's go find a Moth Priest!"

Jaune just groaned and Yang growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going off the book Wabbajack, by the way, which states that a boy who would become King of Solitude tried to summon Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, but instead summoned Sheogorath, and was thusly given the Wabbajack. The book descends into madness, and repetitions of the word "Wabbajack". Sure, in-game there's no effects, but where's the fun in power with no price, especially when it's given by a Daedric Prince?
> 
> Yang does have to give Jaune some credit... even if she wants him to focus on the bigger picture, she still has to acknowledge that, in his naivety, he did stumble into some massive plots that could also have ended the world. Sure, it's sheer dumb luck more than an actual plan on his part, as well as her initiative, but his suggestions do have a tendency to somehow work out.
> 
> Also, yeah... honestly, I've always wondered how Harkon just lets Serana (and his precious Elder Scroll) walk out of Castle Volkihar. I mean, he's supposed to be a centuries-old vampire; paranoia and intrigue should have been a pre-requisite. Then again, I've made my thoughts on the Dawnguard expansion perfectly clear in my dedicated Skyrim story.
> 
> As for why Isran would let Jaune and Yang go on such a quest despite saying he wouldn't have any men wasted looking for such a thing... in this story, Jaune and Yang aren't officially part of the Dawnguard yet. They just arrived at Fort Dawnguard to try and warn the Dawnguard about the Elder Scroll.


	12. The Truth Comes Out (Not That It Was Ever Hidden)

"Any idea how we're going to find a Moth Priest? Skyrim's a pretty big place." Serana asked Jaune, as the trio left Fort Dawnguard, before pausing as she registered the look on their faces. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"... why are you asking _us_?" Jaune replied, utterly bemused. After all, he'd been operating under the assumption that _Serana_ had a plan.

"Uh, because my knowledge is _slightly_ out of date?" Serana pointed out, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Jaune and Yang shared a look. Finally, Yang reluctantly answered: "Neither of us are local to Skyrim..."

Serana blinked, staring at the pair, before slowly admitting: "Okay, I can kind of see it with Jaune-"

""Hey!""

"But I was sure _you_ were born and raised in Skyrim, Yang. Since, you know..."

Yang ground her teeth together at the jab, but restrained her anger. After all, she knew they needed Serana ( _for now_ ), and no matter how much Yang may have disliked Serana for having them go to Castle Volkihar, she knew what the stakes were. She could be professional... as long as Serana was first, of course.

"Yang's actually from... Cyrodiil, right? Wherever Bravil is..." Jaune quickly interjected, seeing a muscle twitch under her eye. "But her mother was from Skyrim, and she's well-versed enough in current affairs (compared to me)!"

"Why don't we just follow Isran's suggestion?" Yang said, keeping her voice level. "Check with innkeepers and carriage drivers?"

"Unless you have any other ideas?" Jaune followed up, desperate for ideas. After all, second chances to fix mistakes didn't come often; he _would_ save the world and stop Harkon, whatever the personal cost. It was really the least he could do.

Yang saw the resolve on his face, and sighed, but decided against commenting. At worst, it would be a glorious death worthy of Sovngarde, after all.

"Well, back before I... you know. The College of Winterhold was the first place I'd think to go for any kind of magic or historical thing." Serana suggested, after some thought. "The wizards know about all kinds of things that people shouldn't know about."

"... does the College still exist, Yang?" Jaune asked. "Because, if it does, it sounds like a promising lead."

"It does, actually. It's probably the last landmark still standing in Winterhold." Yang confirmed, before adding with a frown: "Not many carriage drivers or inns in Winterhold, though."

"Should we split up, then?" Jaune suggested. "We'd cover a lot more ground that way."

"I'm not leaving _her_ unattended." Yang said matter-of-factly, pointing to the vampire. Serana rolled her eyes, too used to Yang's attitude to even bristle, but as Jaune pouted at her, she explained: "Even if I _did_ trust her, which I don't, her father would be a fool not to have search parties looking for her and the Scroll. And he had enough vampires to destroy the Hall of the Vigilants."

Jaune nodded in understanding, but a smirk crept up Serana's face, and she countered: "Well, what if he goes with me to Winterhold, and you ask the innkeepers and carriage drivers?"

"Over my dead body." Yang snarled without a moment's hesitation. "There is no way I'm leaving him alone with _you_.

"And don't even suggest going alone to the inns and carriage drivers by yourself." Yang spun around and jabbed her finger in Jaune's chest as he opened his mouth. "I am _not_ leaving you to wander Skyrim alone."

"Why not?" Serana spoke up curiously, looking between the pair.

"Even if he knew anything about Skyrim, with his luck and attitude, he'd probably trip over a fourth world-ending conspiracy or revelation, or find a few dozen villages that need saving."

Serana stared at the matter-of-fact way Yang had said it, as well as an embarrassed Jaune's lack of response. Then she realized something, and asked: "By the way... why is Jaune's knowledge so poor?"

"What do you mean?" Jaune replied, confused.

"I mean, when it comes to explanations, especially on local stuff and recent events, you always seem to defer to her, _and_ she explains for you, even though I know she'd rather chop my head off than talk to me. But I know you're not _dumb_ ; you seem pretty good at coming up with plans on the fly..."

"Well..."

"Like I said, he's not from around here." Yang said firmly, trying to put a stop to the subject.

"Neither are you." Serana pointed out, refusing to be deterred.

Jaune put his hand on Yang's shoulder before she could retort, calming her down. She raised an eyebrow, asking if he was sure, and he shrugged. After all, it wasn't like it was a big secret, or that Serana knowing it would really change much. Facing Serana, he repeated: "Like Yang said, I'm not from around _here_."

Serana blinked, trying to figure out the meaning behind his words. "What, like an even further province?"

Blank stares and pointed looks were her only response.

Serana tried again: "Even further? What, like a different continent? Atmora? Akavir?"

"Try again." Jaune encouraged her, even as Yang rolled her eyes. Atmora had long since frozen over, and the last known person to have gone to Akavir was the Nerevarine, who'd never returned. To be fair, though, the truth was even more unrealistic than there still being Men or Mer in Akavir.

"..." Serana thought long and hard. There was only _one_ other place she could think of, that sentient races still existed, but the idea was ludicrous! Eventually, she half-jokingly said: "I don't think you're from Oblivion; you don't reek of the daedra..."

"Close enough." Yang answered, savoring the look of shock on her face. "He's from a different dimension, one beyond even Oblivion."

"What?!"

"Well, different dimension, different reality, different world; I don't know the proper term for it..." Jaune clarified sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But I come from a place called Remnant."

"... you're joking, right?" Serana asked skeptically, studying Jaune. _Nothing_ about him suggested that he was from another world; he looked, smelt, and sounded exactly like a Nord! "I expect shit like this from _Yang_ , sure, but not you."

"Was I this skeptical when you told me about Remnant?" Yang murmured to Jaune.

"I don't remember, since I was still trying to get over my death." Jaune whispered back with a shrug, before addressing Serana: "Well, it doesn't really matter if you believe me, but why would I lie about this, let alone tell such a tall tale?"

"I don't know!" Serana snapped back, even as her mind raced. He raised some good points, sure, and sometimes it did seem like he'd been living under a rock, but the idea of a person coming in from a dimension beyond Oblivion raised so many questions about cosmology! Scholars said the sun and the stars were holes in reality drilled by Aedra who escaped being tied to Nirn; the tales never mentioned where the escaping Aedra drilled _to_! But still... "Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, Jaune. As much as it would explain, I need some proof."

Yang rolled her eyes and punched Jaune before Serana could react.

To her surprise, instead of Jaune being sent flying, or getting his bones broken by the blonde barbarian, a bright flash blinded her sensitive eyes, and her vision returned only in time to see a shimmering white field surround Jaune.

"Aura." Jaune stated, rubbing his arm while pouting at Yang, and as Serana cautiously approached it and started prodding at it, he explained: "It's something we had, in Remnant, to allow us to fight monsters. My... former... partner and friend, the one who unlocked it, she told me it was the soul."

"Amazing!" Serana exclaimed, as she explored the field with her extra senses. "It's like a ward and a protection spell in one, but I can't feel any magicka in it!"

"There's no magic in Remnant. That's probably why you can't feel any magicka." Jaune added helpfully, as Yang stopped Serana from poking Jaune any further.

"No magic? And you mentioned monsters? How do you survive?"

"We have technology instead. Weapons, transports, and everyday devices powered by elemental crystals called Dust." Jaune shared as much as he could without going into the specific principles behind them; not only was he not nearly as well-versed on things like weapons or Dust as Ruby and Weiss, but even he could probably guess that sharing the ideas behind guns with a medieval society probably wasn't the wisest idea.

"Like his shield-sheath." Yang spoke up, knocking on his shield, and he flicked it back into its sheath configuration easily.

"Yeah, my shield _only_ does that." Jaune explained, as Serana gawked at it. "My partner's sword could turn into a javelin and a... well, I guess the closest equivalent would be a crossbow."

"HOW?!"

"Mecha-shift technology. And before you ask, no, I don't know how it works either." Jaune forestalled her questions. "This was a family heirloom."

"Oh..." Serana felt disappointed. Sure, she didn't really use weapons, but she couldn't help but be fascinated by the knowledge of a whole new branch of technology (not to mention a whole new reality), just waiting to be discovered! Something else caught her attention, though, and she asked: "What was your family like?"

Yang surreptitiously leaned in closer, hiding her interest in the change in subject. She hadn't brought the subject up with Jaune beyond asking if he'd had any older siblings, not wanting to remind him too much of home ( _of what he'd lost_ ), but he'd been in Skyrim for almost a month now. And if he took it poorly, well, she wouldn't be the one he held responsible.

Jaune, for his part, shrugged and smiled softly, having made up his mind when he'd run away from home before Beacon had started. "Oh, growing up with seven older sisters was definitely... memorable. Always there to do whatever they wanted... but never a dull moment. I wouldn't have traded it for anything."

"You loved them very much." It was a statement, not a question.

"I still do." Jaune said without any hesitation.

"Did something happen to them?" Serana had noted the way Jaune had phrased his sentences.

"Oh, no... I don't think anything's happened to them." Jaune quickly replied reassuringly. "It's just that... I left home, left everything behind, to chase my dreams of being a hunter, a hero."

Yang's eyes widened behind them. She knew he'd been training to be a "Hunstman", but she hadn't known he'd left his family behind, for the sake of a dream. At least his was more noble than her goal of finding (and punching) Raven Branwen. Silently, she gripped his shoulder, and he leaned into the contact.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know..." Serana tried to apologize, but Jaune waved her off.

"It's okay, it was a while ago." Jaune fought down the nostalgia of being dressed up and having his hair done by a mob of older sisters, and idly wondered if his fraternal sister had grown taller (or gotten over how much taller he'd grown compared to her). Of family camping trips, of long nights in blanket forts on the couch watching horror movies, of comics and chips and conflicts. Petty squabbles over meaningless things.

He didn't regret going to Beacon (Teams NPR and RWBY made it all worth it, even Cardin), but that didn't mean he didn't miss his family at times.

Yang frowned, noticing the expression on his face, and felt uneasy, though she didn't know why.

Serana missed it, however (not having seen anything like the look on his face, in her dysfunctional childhood), and instead continued her interrogation: "So, how did you come here?"

"I died." Jaune shrugged nonchalantly. "A dragon led by some woman with fire powers attacked the academy I was at."

Serana's eyes widened, and she echoed: " _Died_? _Dragon_? _Fire powers_?"

"Remember the monsters I mentioned? Remnant's infested with monsters, creatures of darkness and shadow, made manifest in the shape of nightmares. We call these bone-masked monstrosities the "Grimm", and they range from werewolves to bears to giant scorpions. Apparently, there was also a dragon Grimm, sleeping under the mountain."

"... and the fire powers? I thought you said Remnant didn't have magic."

"We don't... I think... what we do have instead are Semblances, reflections of the soul. I knew a hyperactive girl whose Semblance was super speed, for example, and my partner could control metal at will."

"And that's _not_ magic?" Serana asked, skeptically.

"I said the same thing myself..." Yang murmured under her breath.

"Well... everyone only has one Semblance?" Jaune weakly explained, though it was starting to sound hollow to him. "And it's unique to each person?"

"If you say so..." Serana dropped it, though she clearly didn't see the difference herself. After all, there was something more pressing. "And what do you mean... you died?"

"I got stomped on by the dragon before taking an arrow to the chest. Next thing I knew, Yang here was waking me up."

"Then you threw up on my boots, Vomit Boy." Yang added fondly, unable to resist the jab. Reminding him of better times would surely be better than letting him dwell on how much he'd lost, right?

Serana clearly didn't share the same sentiments, as she ignored Yang's teasing and instead asked: "Do you... do you ever miss your old life?"

Jaune paused, for a moment. Sighing, he replied: "It doesn't matter. I'm here now, and I don't think there's any way back. Anyway, what about you?"

"What about me?" Serana was confused by the sudden change in topic.

"Yeah, tell us a bit more about your family." Jaune encouraged with a smile. "You're fighting your father, right? I can't imagine that's easy for you..."

Serana was speechless. This was the first time she'd been asked for her opinion on the topic; even her own _mother_ hadn't considered her feelings about being dragged into a civil war between her parents, before she'd locked her up for centuries. For a moment, she felt like shutting out Jaune and his words, and instead parrot the line her mother had always fed her about self-preservation and danger. Emotions were just a liability after all, unnecessary in the grand scheme of things.

A look at Jaune's earnest expression shattered that worldview. Even before they'd become vampires, her father had been obsessed with immortality, while her mother had always been more focused with her research than being a good mother. Sure, she had _some_ good memories of growing up, but being the daughter of a tyrannical king had isolated her more effectively than being imprisoned. Things had only gotten worse after she'd debased herself, and her father had sacrificed most of his subjects, in pursuit of vampirism.

Jaune had been the first person who'd actually _trusted_ her, given her the benefit of the doubt. Even when he'd learned she was a vampire, even when Yang had suggested they kill her, even without him knowing much about where she'd wanted to go (or why), he'd _still_ offered to help. He was idealistic, naive, trusting... and the only person who'd treated her as more than a _tool_ , or just another _monster_.

Molag Bal help her, she simply wanted to return the honesty he'd shown her.

Looking away, Serana finally choked out: "It... it really isn't. My father's a monster, but he was _still_ my father. I just... I _hate_ being forced to choose. But I don't have a choice. If he got his way, he'd doom us all."

Jaune could understand, feeling like you were trapped between a rock and a hard place. He'd felt that way, choosing between his family and his dreams, then between his team and Cardin's blackmail, then when he'd seen death, been forced to take a life.

Yang could understand too, being tied by blood to an absolutely detestable person. She didn't want to empathize or sympathize with Serana, but she couldn't help it. As much as she hated Raven, she hadn't been able to stop _caring_ about her, even if it'd just been keeping a ear to the ground so she'd know which grave to piss on. And at least Raven _wasn't_ a narcissistic vampire lord who wanted to get rid of the sun (as far as she knew). If Serana was telling the truth (big if there), Yang could at least (begrudgingly) give her _some_ respect for her resolve. Idly, a small part of her wondered if Raven was even worth the effort, at this point. Between being the Dragonborn, the dragons returning, the vampire's conspiracy, and that fake Dragonborn who'd sent assassins after her, her life had become a lot more complicated than looking for a long-lost egg donor. Why _should_ she let her past be shackled to that bitch?

As Yang chewed on her thoughts, Serana coughed, and asked: "So... what do we do? Head to the College, or ask around inns and stables?"

"Why not both?" Jaune suggested, recalling the city he'd passed by on the way to Fort Dawnguard. "We can go into Riften and check in with the city's inn. If we get no leads there, we can ask the carriage driver while hiring him to take us to the College at Winterhold-"

Yang winced as she heard his suggestion, and quickly interjected: "Vomit Boy... do you remember what I told you about Riften?"

"..." Jaune's brow furrowed, as he tried to recall the lectures she'd given him on the road. History and Geography had never been his best subjects, though. Also... "Not really... you were pretty vague when it came to Riften, Yang."

"Hive of scum and villainy, full of thieves and corruption, being burnt to the ground would only be an improvement to the city?" Yang prompted, trying to jog his memory, before frowning as Jaune shook his head, only drawing blanks. But his idea had _some_ merit, she had to admit, and she counter-suggested: "Well, we can still ask the carriage driver at the stables, but its probably for the best if we stay _out_ of Riften."

"Sure, I trust you." Jaune shrugged, not feeling bothered in the least. Yang couldn't help but smile at his words, though it faltered slightly as he added: "Since, as we've made clear, I'm not a native, and Serana's knowledge is probably _slightly_ out-of-date."

"Vomit Boy, you should know better than to mention a girl's age." Yang chided him, taking comfort in their familiar routine.

Serana rolled her eyes at the implied jab, but decided not to comment. After all, it was still the _nicest_ thing Yang had said about her. Instead, she nodded, and said: "Well then, let's go find a Moth Priest, and get this Elder Scroll read."

**-ONE MOTH PRIEST (AND AN ADVENTURE) LATER-**

"Now, if everyone will please be quiet, I must concentrate." Dexion Evicus, the Moth Priest they'd rescued near Dragon Bridge, instructed the group of Dawnguard agents around him as he held up Serana's Elder Scroll, and as the noise died away, he pulled the scroll open, and began: "I see a vision before me, an image of a great bow. I know this weapon! It is Auriel's Bow! Now a voice whispers, saying "Among the night's children, a dread lord will rise." In an age of strife, when dragons return to the realm of men, darkness will mingle with light and the night and day will be as one. The voice fades and the words begin to shimmer and distort.

"But wait, there is more here. The secret of the bow's power is written elsewhere. I think there is more to the prophecy, recorded in other scrolls. Yes, I see them now... one contains the ancient secrets of the dragons, and the other speaks of the potency of ancient blood. My vision darkens, and I see no more. To know the complete prophecy, we must have the other two scrolls."

"Come on, old man. You should get some rest." Isran said kindly to the exhausted-looking scholar (to the shock of many of the Dawnguard), and supported his frail form as he led him to a guest room.

Jaune felt tempted to give him some of his Aura, to heal the old man, but decided against it ultimately. After all, Dexion was trained to read Elder Scrolls; he'd be fine from just reading one Elder Scroll, right? Instead, he thought about what Dexion had said, before paling as his mind processed the words.

Yang recovered her voice first, and asked in a disbelieving tone: "Did... did he just say we needed _two more_ scrolls?!"

Jaune just groaned into his hands in response, not trusting his voice for much more than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I hate writing dialogue, so much, especially when there's more than 2 people involved...
> 
> But yeah, Serana now knows Jaune's open secret. To be fair, he really doesn't have a reason to keep it a secret; if they're going to travel together, he wants there to at least be a modicum of trust, Aura can't be replicated anyway, and its not like he's telling her how to make guns. Nor does he have any idea how to recreate mecha-shift weapons and shields. And he's not telling her how to overcome Aura, how to bypass it, its strengths and weaknesses.
> 
> And I'd like to think Serana would at least be observant enough to pick up on the fact that Yang does all the explaining, even though Yang dislikes her intensely.
> 
> As for why Serana doesn't think her mother Valerica trusted her... Valerica locked her up, rather than take Serana with her to the Soul Cairn (or even tell her daughter and co-conspirator that she was going to the Soul Cairn). Sure, from Valerica's perspective she may have been sparing her daughter from blood starvation and a life in Oblivion (and keeping her location a secret so that she wouldn't be worried as well as being basic operational security), but I doubt Serana saw it that way.
> 
> And yes, Yang does pick up something from Serana, even if she'll never thank her for it. In the same way that Serana reminds Jaune of his past life, for better or for worse (mostly for the worse, as far as Yang's concerned), and Serana gets treated like a human and someone who can keep up with her snarky sarcasm
> 
> On a side note, a part of me's tempted to just skip through most of the Dawnguard arc. Why? Because a) its really just padding and fluff to develop their relationships more than anything else, and b) I've already written a Dawnguard-Volkihar war story. It feels like I'm just rehashing my original Skyrim story.
> 
> Of course, I could say the same about this whole story being a spin-off of my own other story, but, well... I never said things in this story would be the same as the previous one, did I?
> 
> Also, feel free to drop suggestions for possible future worlds/alternate versions of RWBY characters in the reviews! Because, while I've mostly finished fleshing out the plot for Skyrim, and roughly figured out Fallout, I haven't really thought much beyond that point.


End file.
